Tips of Roses
by mmmkiwis
Summary: Kurt doesn't remember who he used to be after being beaten down so many times. A new transfer might change all that. Um, AU, badboy!Blaine, but focuses more on Kurt. R for language, drinking, violence, homophobia, abuse, slight non-con, sexual situations, depression, suicidal thoughts. Read the warnings in the later chapters
1. Chapter 1

_"When you have insomnia, you never really sleep, but you're never really awake either."_

The words rattle around Kurt's head, as they had since Finn had dragged him out of his room and forced him to watch that movie with him.

Finn wanted Kurt there because while Puck said _Fight Club_ was an awesome movie with punches and boobs, Rachel had cocked her head and shot him a funny look when he told her he wanted to watch it on their weekly date night.

_"Are you sure?" she'd asked. "Isn't that movie a little heavy for us?"_

Finn decided that if Rachel thought it "heavy," then it was probably complicated, which meant it would fly over his head. It wasn't that Finn was stupid; on the contrary, he could be very insightful. Occasionally. But sometimes it just took him a while to _get_ things and it was just so much easier to have Kurt explain stuff.

Kurt was surprisingly good at it.

And while yeah, he sometimes shot Finn those looks that said _You are such a dumbass and I don't know why I bother,_ Kurt would also be patient and mold words around in a way that they made sense to Finn and stuck in his mind.

Maybe it had something to do with the fact that they were sort of brothers now. Like they could read each other's minds or something. But then Finn would think about it and how he rarely had any idea what Kurt was thinking and thinking hurt sometimes so Finn gave up. But still made Kurt watch movies with him.

So Kurt sat on the couch, knees drawn up to his chest and head leaning on one if the armrests, and quietly watched as Edward Norton and Brad Pitt destroyed the world with a single punch. And Finn sat next to him, confused and underwhelmed, until Kurt helped him understand it.

Now, lying on his bed at 3:16 am in a darkened room, Kurt stares at his ceiling. He almost can't see it in the dark, but the faint light from the streetlamp outside seeps in around the window shades and gives soft definition to everything.

Nights are Kurt's time.

He closes his eyes and let himself _feel_ all the pain and hurt and the hate that he hides all day, every day beneath a cold façade. His hands cover his mouths as the sobs claw their way out of his throat, silently as always.

Kurt had gotten good at crying without making a sound.

At first it was because he didn't want to worry his dad, didn't want his father to know that his son came home from school with a new bruise or twenty from another shove, another trip, another locker slam, all because he was _gay_ and he _liked boys_. He didn't want his father to realize that the reason Kurt shopped so much was because he actually _had_ to, that he hadn't had an outfit last a full week with getting high fructose corn syrup stains on it or torn and ripped up since middle school. He didn't want his dad to realize his little boy, his _Kurt_ was getting called every name under the sun and even some drudged up from the bottom of the ocean, and that the stupid rhyme every baby learned was bullshit and words _do_ hurt. They have for a long time, just cutting Kurt up and slicing him into tiny pieces under his armor; little shreds of paper that get stomped on and crushed and torn until Kurt barely recognizes himself anymore.

But then crying in the dead of the night became a routine for Kurt, a way to let everything out without actually dealing with it. Therapeutic. Because if he got his tears out at three in the morning, then maybe he could hold it together during school.

No one needed to know how close he was to giving up and just screaming at the top of his lungs for _someone to notice me, help me, I'm so fucking tired and I just want it to stop_.

When everything is out and Kurt feels drained and empty, he lowers his hands. He swipes at his wet cheeks; sniffling and taking deep breaths, trying to keep his mind empty long enough to fall asleep without that creeping sense of despair that got harder to fight off every night.

In a few hours, he'll be back at school and struggling to come up with a reason to continue through the day and deal with everyone's problems but his own. He'll go through the day with a smile and sarcasm, without really seeing anything, and then he'll come home and bicker with Finn and chastise his father for trying to sneak snacks when he knows Kurt has him on a diet and dodge Carole because all she ever wants to do is _talk_ and Kurt can't talk, can't for a second let all of his shit see the light of day. And after dinner and after homework and a movie and a quick goodnight hug from Burt, Kurt will go to his room and do his moisturizing routine and change into pajamas and wait in his bed until he's certain everyone is asleep. And then he'll cry until he can hardly breathe, can hardly see, and then he'll sleep and wake up and start over.

The routine keeps Kurt sane and lets him survive, but he doesn't know how much longer he can keep it up.

New York is still a dream, but it dims and fades a little more every day.

* * *

><p>Listening to Rachel Berry the next morning rant on about yet another cosmic problem makes Kurt want to scream. He settles in to his default school mode: smile and nod like you hear everything, ignore every word.<p>

Kurt is lost in the fog of his own mind when a thick hand clamps down on his shoulder and _shoves_ Kurt into the lockers. He forgets to turn at the last second and hits the cold metal face-on, forehead knocking into the doors with a loud _crack_. It shocks Rachel into silence, which Kurt is briefly thankful for as he feels a headache begin to swell beneath his skull. The red letterman jacket is already halfway down the hall and the rest of the school walks on, lost in their own crises. Rachel stays by his side, touching Kurt's shoulder lightly as Kurt just stands there for a minute to collect himself.

"Are you okay?" she asks quietly.

Like always, Kurt opens his eyes and forces a smile. "I'm fine." The words sound hollow and empty and like such a huge lie that Kurt fights the sudden urge to run away forever and never look back. Instead he straightens his back and picks his bag up from the floor, wiping imaginary dirt off of his dark jeans. Kurt's smile is tight but steady, until he glances over Rachel's shoulders and sees _him_.

He, Blaine Anderson, is new. A junior, like them, but beyond that no one really knows much else other than his parents are filthy rich and he drives a '69 _Chevelle_, in _Ohio_. Kurt grew up with cars and liked them enough that his jaw dropped with envy that first morning when Blaine Anderson roared his way into the William McKinley High School parking lot, tossing a cigarette butt out the window and smirking at every person that dared set their eyes on him.

Blaine Anderson is gorgeous, if maybe a little short. But he has thick dark, curly hair and bright hazel eyes and a permanent grin on his face, like he enjoys his life and who he is. Confidence pours off of him, confidence that Kurt wants so badly. From the second Blaine saw him in their AP American History class; Kurt knew he was in trouble.

Sometimes Kurt hates his heart. He hates that it feels so much that it hurt, that it attaches itself to boys so easily when those boys would take it and crush it into oblivion. Like with Finn. And Sam.

Blaine Anderson, rumored bad boy and supposed juvenile delinquent, would break his heart then hand him the shattered remains if Kurt let him. But when those _eyes_, those golden eyes that somehow sees more than Kurt thought they should catches his, it's hard to breathe.

So Kurt swallows, breaks eye contact and walks to his first period class, leaving a confused Rachel Berry behind.

Surprisingly, given the rumors, Blaine is in most of Kurt's classes. With years of having no friends, Kurt has actually read a lot and so has been in the advanced classes for most of his school career.

Kurt sits in the back of class to avoid spitballs. He likes it. Most days he tunes out the teacher and recites songs and daydreams of a better place, one where he isn't hated on sight or beaten down. He rarely pays attention to his classmates. They don't see him clutching his battered body on the floor on top of his scattered papers that fly around him, so why should he notice them? Kurt stares at his desk, one arm wound tight around his waist and the other hand up by his mouth, tapping gently as the teacher drones on. His classmates file in slowly but Kurt doesn't see them, slipping back into his distant persona like a warm coat.

_Petals broke from the tips of roses hidden underneath my arms…_

"Hey."

Kurt starts at the whisper and looks at his right. Blaine is looking at the teacher, the perfect picture of attentiveness but for the quick wink and small smile he directs at Kurt. Kurt just stares, caught between confusion and fear and a tiny sliver of hope because this beautiful boy is _looking _at him and _talking_ to him and it's been so long that he's had anything from strangers other than a dirty look and a harsh word that Kurt has almost forgotten what it's like.

"Hi." Kurt hates how small and faint his voice is. To cover, he swallows and looks at the blackboard, embedding the dates in his mind. _Columbus set sail with three ships: The Santa Monica…_

But a piece of paper falls on his desk and Kurt's eyes fall to it. It's folded neatly and crisply and sits there so cheerfully. Kurt can almost feel Blaine's excitement bubbling up through the folds and he glance at Blaine, but the other boy is focused on the lecture; only a barely restrained smiled giving him away.

_Tell me again that part how you didn't feel a thing…_

Kurt takes Blaine in. Blaine likes to wear a dark leather jacket that has clearly seen a lot of love. He pairs it with black boots that should look pretentious and cliché but somehow don't; along with jeans and V-necks of various colors. Today is white. His ears have several small silver hoops and studs, though his face is left alone. Sometimes Blaine forgoes shaving and lets his scruff grow a little, making him look rougher and older. But his eyes are always twinkling, like he knows a secret joke that he wants to share, but doesn't. Blaine's wrists have several bracelets of all different colors, all handmade and Kurt wonders who makes them. Maybe his girlfriend. Kurt's stomach grows cold at that though.

He unfolds the paper.

_HEY! YOU'RE IN MY NEXT CLASS RIGHT?_

Kurt frowns. He's not used to people noticing him, but Blaine's even capitals look friendly and Kurt finds himself writing quickly underneath them and tossing the paper back when the teacher turns around.

**yeah i am**

Kurt tries to ignore how even his handwriting is small and thin. It feels like too much of metaphor for his life.

In seconds, the paper is back in front of him. Kurt blinks and reads.

_AWESOME! I'VE BEEN HERE A WEEK AND I  
>STILL GET LOST. WALK WITH ME?<em>

Kurt looks at Blaine again and sees big, puppy dog eyes.

He hides a smile.

**sure.**

He has no idea how it's possible for Blaine's smile to get larger, but it does. Maybe Kurt won't mind history so much anymore.

_YES! THANK YOU SO MUCH!  
>BY THE WAY I'M BLAINE ANDERSON<em>

**Kurt Hummel.**

He sees Blaine mouth out his name as he reads it out of the corner of his eye. Blaine is about to scribble another note when the bell rings, and all of sudden there is a curly-haired hobbit bouncing in front of Kurt's desk and grinning so sweetly Kurt wonders if the sun is jealous.

Blaine holds out his hand for Kurt to shake, which he does. "Nice to meet you Kurt." Blaine's eyes are still twinkling. "Sorry, old habits die hard and all." Kurt wonders at that.

"Right," Kurt says as he packs up his stuff and stands. "We should go; Pre-Calc is on the other side of the school, and I know how hard it is to walk fast when you're the size of Frodo." Kurt doesn't mention how he leaves either really early or really late to avoid the jocks between classes. It doesn't always work. Somehow, though, he suspects Blaine already knows.

Blaine just smiles, ignores the insult, and follows Kurt into the hallway dutifully. Once free of the classroom, Blaine is suddenly right next to Kurt and walking almost hip-to-hip and Kurt can't figure out why it makes him nervous but happy and generally all twisted up inside.

_Nothing you say can, will ever penetrate  
>the walls that I, that I, I, I create…<em>

They talk all day in their shared classes: Blaine constantly; with long rambles and frequent questions and Kurt more quietly and snarky; with short answers and _looks_ more often than words. But Blaine doesn't seem to mind. Kurt feels his defenses start to slip and it scares him, but when he's talking with Blaine like this, Kurt forgets how fucked up his life really is. It's nice.

Walking with Blaine, Kurt gets looks. Curious ones, hostile ones, even friendly ones from people in Glee Club. Everyone looks at Blaine because he's only been there here for a week and he's still new and different, and he's walking with that gay kid and touching his arm like it's the most natural thing in the world and the gay kid doesn't try to stop him.

The most hostile looks come from girls that are now starting to suspect Blaine's sexuality from the way he walks with Kurt and touches him. A few of the scarier ones come from the jocks. Kurt sees a dark expression on Dave Karofsky's face during lunch and he has to throw away the rest of his salad before he gets sick. He shrugs off Blaine's worried questions but stays at their lonely table, head held high and meeting every glare with one of his own.

Kurt feels Blaine itching to say something but he doesn't.

When Kurt finally looks at him, Blaine's face is sad and pained and Kurt hates himself for putting it there.

"You probably shouldn't sit with me unless you want everyone to think you're gay." Kurt says and bites his lip. He wants to sit with Blaine. He likes how Blaine makes him feel whole and happy and not like such a fuck up. But he can't ask Blaine to go through slushies and violence every day.

Blaine snorts and Kurt looks at him. And only sees anger. "I want to sit with you," Blaine says stubbornly. "Besides," Blaine raises his voice so the other students that are surreptitiously listening in can hear. "The magpies here can shove it since I am gay." Blaine flashes an evil grin at a clearly disgusted girl over Kurt's shoulder. He takes another bite of his hamburger and winks at Kurt. "Can't get rid of me, Hummel."

Kurt doesn't think he wants to.

"Are you really a 'badboy' or is all this an image?" Kurt asks after their last class lets out. He has Glee, but suddenly the idea of being locked in a room with a dysfunctional group of teenagers is too much for him and he finds himself walking with Blaine to the parking lot.

Blaine grins and slides out a cigarette, lighting it with practiced ease. "It's complicated," he says, then sizes Kurt up. Standing in the middle of a crowded parking lot with Blaine eyeing him; Kurt has never felt more naked. "Is this whole 'fuck-you-ice-queen' act really you?"

Kurt doesn't move, doesn't speak. He's known Blaine all of a day, and he already know him better than his own friends do. It makes Kurt angry and pissed but warm all at once and Kurt forces his legs to keep walking. "It's complicated." He says.

Blaine just shrugs and waves and hops in his car. He throws Kurt a grin as he drives past. Kurt raises an eyebrow but waves back.

He gets in his own car: a black Lincoln Navigator. A birthday present from his father to mask the fact that he hadn't had enough friends for a party last year. Kurt texts Finn that he's leaving early and to find his own ride home, then rests his head against the steering wheel as he waits for a reply.

It's been a weird day.

The phone buzzes in his hand, but when he looks at it, it's not Finn.

'_You're pretty when you smile.'_

Kurt stares at the words. They don't seem real. The phone buzzes again.

_'It's Blaine by the way. Got your number from Puck in gym.'_

As Kurt types out a reply, he smiles to himself. Blaine Anderson could be the best thing to ever happen to him.

Maybe he won't cry tonight.

* * *

><p><strong>AN-**

Um. Yeah. The song used here is 'Petals' by The Honorary Title. They are pretty amazing, holy Christ, bring tissues. I swear I want to burst into tears after a few of their songs.

Anyway! I have no idea what this is. I know I haven't updated "Wheel In The Sky" in MONTHS and I'm so sorry! Really! I am working on it, I promise. Writer's block is a bitch. So I wrote this at 4 am during a bad bout of insomnia. Basically- I was bored and sleep-deprived, and this came out.

I might continue it. I don't know. I think Kurt is too out of character for me to keep writing him this way, but who knows.

Thanks for reading guys

**Update 5/16 -** finally went back and fixed some grammar issues


	2. Chapter 2

Three days after Blaine leapt into his life, Kurt stands at his locker before school and thinks.

Things were better.

Things were worse.

Blaine hasn't left Kurt alone since that first day. Kurt's phone goes off every few minutes with a picture message or a text or a phone call. Even during school. And between classes, Blaine latches onto Kurt's side like an overenthusiastic puppy, chattering about a new band or movie Kurt absolutely, positively _has_ to see otherwise it could be a crime.

He doesn't mind that Kurt is silent more often than not. He just winks and brushes their fingers together every few seconds.

Mercedes and Rachel haven't left him alone either. If Blaine wasn't there, they were. And all they could talk about was _Blaine Anderson_ hanging out with _Kurt Hummel _and does he like Kurt? Does Kurt like him? Is he really gay? Can he sing? Why was he kicked out of his old school? Is he on drugs? Is Kurt taking drugs now too?

Mercedes thinks he's bad news and dangerous and that Kurt should stay away.

Rachel thinks he and Blaine could have a tragically romantic love story and when Blaine breaks Kurt's heart, Kurt can pen a chart topper and make millions.

Sometimes Kurt wants to scream.

But he doesn't know what Blaine wants.

It couldn't be him.

Who would be so desperate to want him?

A flamboyant kid built more like a girl than a bodybuilder? A boy so gay that even the most ignorant idiot's gaydar would go crazy within fifteen feet?

Someone so unsexy?

Someone with no experience?

No, Blaine just wanted a friend. And was probably flirting for practice.

But it still hurt when his friends assumed.

Kurt cries out when a shoulder checks him into the locker. With his breath knocked out of him, Kurt can barely remember to hold himself up. He looks up with a glare, only to see Karofsky's back walking away. Kurt suddenly wishes for a freak meteor to hit that huge, hulking mass of boy. Karofsky turns back and Kurt's blood drains from his face. Karofsky's eyes hold a frightening mix of emotions: anger, hatred, disgust. And in small traces: lust.

Kurt turns away, shaking. He feels his cold mask slip on as he trades out the books he'll need for the morning. He was seeing things. He had to be.

The bullying has escalated. More shoves, more trips, more namecalling. But never in sight of Blaine.

Kurt doesn't understand it.

"Hey!"

Looking up, Kurt sees Blaine practically running his way with a huge smile on his face. One day, he will understand how Blaine Anderson sees the world. Like a child does. For Blaine, every day is an adventure; full of wonder and mystery and beauty.

Kurt wishes he could, too.

"Hey, you," Kurt offers a small smile as Blaine stops next to his locker. David Karofsky is pushed far away to the back of his mind. He shuts his locker and eyes Blaine's outfit. "Do you own anything other than that ratty old jacket?" He wrinkles his nose as if in disgust. Kurt actually loved the jacket. It was very _Blaine_. But Blaine was rather attached to it and it was fun to tease him.

Sure enough, Blaine's face falls into a pout. "Why you gotta hate, you hater?" He crosses his arms and hugs the jacket to himself. Kurt simply raises an eyebrow and walks away. But he's caught.

Blaine lets out a laugh and runs to catch up. "Ha! I knew it! You totally love the jacket, don't you?"

"I have no idea what you are talking about."

"Bullshit, I can see that smile!" Blaine steps in front of Kurt. He pokes Kurt's face. "Come on, smile!"

Kurt swats Blaine's finger away with a short laugh. It hurts. He hasn't laughed in a long time.

But Blaine is tugging on his sleeve and dragging Kurt to their first class. AP US History. And Kurt follows, giggling and stretching old muscles he's almost forgotten how to use.

He doesn't see David Karofsky's murderous face as they fly by.

* * *

><p>The next week, Kurt sits in Glee club after school, pretending to listen to Rachel talk about solos and Santana boast about yet another sexual conquest from the local mall. He thinks about Blaine.<p>

Blaine, who is sitting right next to him.

Blaine, who has an arm around the back of his chair and is chatting with Mike.

He still didn't know why Blaine insisted on coming. Blaine said something about wanting to hear Kurt sing. Kurt warned him it might be a couple weeks, what with the way Finn and Rachel hog the microphone. Blaine just smirked and told Kurt that wasn't an excuse.

Four meetings in, Kurt hadn't sung. Neither had Blaine. They come in, sit down, and then Blaine is pulled into a conversation with Mike, Artie, and Puck, and Mercedes and Tina claim Kurt and Rachel just yells at everyone while Santana alternates between flirting with Brittany and insulting anyone that looks at her. Quinn shoots jealous looks at Finn and Finn just smiles and nods at everything that comes out of Rachel's mouth and Mr. Schue moans about Ms. Pillsbury and Carl.

Kurt turns away from Mercedes and Rachel's verbal sparring and watches Blaine.

Blaine uses his hands when he talks. It's like he can't sit still. And the optimism. He has so much it should be annoying, but no.

Kurt wonders if he could learn to be like that. Less jaded, at least.

He wants to sing.

Kurt almost falls off his chair. He wants to _sing_. He hadn't for weeks, letting Rachel take over and fading into the background.

But right now?

He is going to sing.

"Shut up, Rachel."

She stops talking, shocked. She should be. Kurt hadn't spoken more than a few words to her for weeks and never in that tone. It sounds like the old Kurt.

"I want to sing."

Everyone stares. Even Mr. Schue, who looks like a piglet had suddenly leapt into the room and started tap dancing. But Blaine just beams. Kurt stands up. His knees are suddenly shaky and walking to the center of the room and facing all of his friends is the most terrifying thing he has ever had to do.

He clears his throat. "Um, Puck, can you come here?" Kurt tries to calm his nerves. He knows what song he's using.

After Puck hears the song, he gives Kurt a long look, but pulls up a stool and takes an acoustic guitar from one of the band guys. He gives a nod when he's ready.

Kurt takes a calming breath.

"Hey." His voice cracks and Kurt swallows hard. "I haven't sung in a while. I haven't felt the need to." Kurt looks into everyone's eyes. Some are worried, some are confused, some are hurt. A few look guilty. Blaine is studying him, a small frown on his face. Kurt continues. "Life's been hard for awhile. But I think I'm going to be okay." Kurt lets his gaze linger on Blaine before nodding to Puck.

He opens his mouth.

"_Many is the time I've been mistaken,  
>And many times confused."<em>

Kurt closes his eyes, feeling all of his tension and fear and hopelessness wash out of him with his voice and the soothing lyrics.

"_Yes, and often felt forsaken,  
>And certainly misused,<br>But I'm all right, I'm all right,  
>I'm just weary to my bones."<em>

He thinks he hears Finn come in on the drums, softly. Kurt smiles to himself

"_And I dreamed I was flying…"_

He sings on, pouring his heart into the words and forgetting the rest of the world for a few minutes. Kurt is tired. He is just so tired of living but he knows he'll make it.

"_And I'm trying to get some rest  
>That's all, I'm trying to get some rest."<em>

Kurt lets the last note trail off into silence, meeting Blaine's pensive hazel eyes. He hardly hears the smattering of applause and Rachel's hushed proclamation that if Kurt sings that song at Regionals, she'll give up a solo. As he sits back down, blushing at all the attention, he prepares to do damage control with Mercedes. She clearly isn't happy with not noticing Kurt's depression.

He feels Blaine slip a hand into his. As he fingers the slightly calloused pads and Blaine strokes the back of his hand, Kurt sucks in a breath. He squeezed Blaine's hand at his revelation.

One day, Kurt thinks, he'll be alright.

He just needs some rest.

* * *

><p><strong>AN-**

**Song used: American Tune by Paul Simon**

**I don't know where I'm going with this. I don't even know how often this'll get updated. That being said, thanks for reading!**

**Oh and if you think things are getting better?**

**Um. Hahaha. Probably not yet. Calm before the storm, folks =]**

**Update 5/14- Fixed some grammar again...sorry. This is what happens when you write at 3 am.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/n-**

Don't get used to these updates. I don't know where these are soming from, and I am going to pay for them when I drop dead from no sleep and fail my 2 exams and a practical next week. Haha!

I guess I should start putting in warnings? I'm leaving this at T since I won't be writing smut but there are still some heavy things.

Warnings- homophobia, name-calling, minor mentions of suicidal thoughts, depression

Enjoy!

**Update 5/16- fixed more grammar...**

* * *

><p>The first time Kurt gets slushied in front of Blaine is a brutal triple attack from Azimio, Karofsky, and Stephens. He stands there, more from the shock of sudden sticky cold slapping his face than the shock of actually getting slushied. He silently mourns the loss of his shirt; it was one of his favorites. When he wipes the juice out of his eyes, he sees Blaine's face grow dark and furious.<p>

Kurt suddenly remembers that he doesn't know that much about Blaine. Like why he transferred. And if all the rumors of him being a drug dealer are true. Or that one about starting a Fight Club at his old school. There was one that said Blaine just got out of juvie. Kurt hadn't put much stock in that last one, but looking at the tension and fury rolling off of Blaine in waves, he reconsiders.

"You alright?" Blaine's voice is still tender, and Kurt nods mutely. "Good," Blaine mutters. "I'll see you later tonight."

Then he's taking off down the hall, chasing three red-jacketed jocks and yelling curses. Kurt's heart leaps into his throat.

"Oh shit, no, Blaine," Kurt wipes his face with a sleeve and runs after Blaine, but not before Blaine launches himself at one of the jocks. Stephens falls to the floor with a bloody nose and a yell. Blaine punches him twice in the face before Azimio pulls him off.

For a small guy, Kurt realizes how scrappy Blaine is. And how well he fights. Blaine twists out of Azimio's arms and knees the football player in the groin before turning on Karofsky. Before he lays a finger on him, however, a teacher is running out, her eyes blazing and mouth yelling.

Kurt can hardly believe it. The teachers don't noticed Kurt getting attacked daily, but the second football players are in trouble, they come out of their little dens.

Blaine gets detention for a week. The jocks get warnings.

The whole situation is so unfair that Kurt finds himself yelling at the teacher, then the secretary, and then Figgins. He gets detention too.

He couldn't care less.

At least he'll be with Blaine.

* * *

><p>In detention, they sit next to each other in the back of the room.<p>

Blaine gives a fierce look to Jacob Ben Israel, who scurries away to the front. Alone, Blaine studies Kurt.

Kurt does his best to ignore Blaine's calculating gaze. He opens his French textbook and tries to lose himself in conjugation. Blaine doesn't approve.

"I didn't know you can yell like that."

Kurt looks up and sees Blaine, head resting on one hand and smirking. "You don't know me very well." He finally says, and goes back to the book. "I didn't know you could fight like that."

"You don't know me very well." Blaine says. Then—"Is this who you used to be?" Kurt is silent. "I like it." Blaine smiles faintly. "It suits you."

"I haven't yelled like that in a long time." Kurt stares at his book. "It never seemed like anyone was listening."

A hand grabs his and strokes his fingers comfortingly. "Someone is now."

* * *

><p>Mercedes corners Kurt the next morning.<p>

"Boy is bad news," she says. Kurt doesn't speak, just clutches his books tighter to his chest and looks through her. Mercedes doesn't like it. "I'm serious, Kurt! He's already got detention for the next week and he's been thrown out of more schools in the last three years than you've been in your whole life!"

"So?" Kurt glares and feels an old spark of sass flare up in his chest.

She gapes at him. "_So_, don't go out with him. I heard you got detention too. He's clearly a bad influence." Mercedes rolls her eyes, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

Kurt counts to ten in his head. Slowly. "Mercedes—" he starts but is cutoff when he is shoulder-checked hard into the lockers. He hits the metal with a crash and drops his books, eyes tearing up as pain rips across his shoulder.

"Watch where you're going, homo!"

The words hurt as much as the locker.

"I wasn't moving!" he shouts back, anger flooding his body. It's exhilarating. He's been numb for weeks; anger is a welcome change. He's sick of taking the bullying lying down.

Karofsky turns and laughs. Just outright laughs in his face. "You exist, fag! Just go die, no one will miss you anyway!" He high-fives Azimio and saunters away.

Mercedes helps him up. "Are you alright?"

Not trusting himself to speak, Kurt nods, but watches Karofsky walk away and wishes he could burn holes in that damn letterman's jacket. The words settle deep within his heart, sharp as razors.

He ignores Mercedes and walks to his first period class.

Between classes, Kurt stops by his locker to switch out his morning binders for the afternoon. Blaine had gotten caught texting Kurt so he was currently being detained by Mrs. Liptak. He shot such a pitiful look at Kurt when Kurt left that Kurt almost laughed.

He wonders if he should wait at the lockers or go to lunch without Blaine. He took out his phone before he remembers Blaine doesn't have it (and probably won't for a while if Liptak has anything to say about it).

It happens in slow motion.

A thick hand smacks Kurt's phone out of his hand and slams him into the locker. Kurt hisses as the lock digs into his back. Breathing harshly, Kurt squeezes his eyes shut. And remembers what Blaine said to him.

_"Why do you let them push you around?"_

_ Blaine had found out Kurt still gets bullied when he isn't around._

_ "Because they are built like tanks. And I'm a twig." Kurt studies his coffee. He never would have thought Blaine was a coffee fiend, but here they are, sitting in _The Lima Bean_, same as every afternoon. _

_ Blaine tries a different tactic. "I think you should refuse to be the victim." He states. When Kurt scoffs, Blaine frowns. "I know you're better than this. Be strong. Call them out. They're just ignorant. I can help."_

_ "Blaine, I appreciate the advice, I do, I just…" Kurt bites the words off and takes a deep breath. "I'm not you. I just want to get through high school alive and I just have one more year in this shit town and I'm gone." He takes a deep gulp of his mocha._

_ They both sit there in silence._

_ "There's a difference between 'existing' and 'living,' Kurt." Blaine smiles sadly._

_Kurt felt guilty and ashamed. He hates who he is now. But he can't change. So Kurt throws out his coffee and walks back to his car, ignoring the way his stomach is twisting inside of him._

The red letterman jacket walks away from him. Students in the hallway walk past him. And then Kurt is hit by such a wave of _anger_ and _fury_ that he almost trips as he runs after Karofsky.

"HEY!"

A few students glance at him quizzically, but Kurt only has eyes for Karofsky. The jerk asshole that's determined to make his life a living hell. Blaine is in his mind, telling him _he can do this, he can take a stand and make things better for himself._

Kurt Hummel is nobody's princess.

David Karofsky needs to be reminded.

The jock ignores the shout and walks into the locker room. Kurt doesn't stop, doesn't hesitate before he is inside and screaming at Karofsky.

"I am talking to you!" Kurt is seething. Adrenaline pumps through his veins and a calmer part of Kurt notices his hands are shaking.

"Girl's locker room is next door, fag." Karofsky doesn't look at him but focuses on getting some sweaty, smelly clothes from out of the locker. Kurt is disgusted but suddenly his mouth is running and he can't stop what comes out.

"Oh right, every straight guy's nightmare; that all us gays are secretly out to molest and convert you." Kurt spits out. He sees Karofsky flinch, but Kurt is too far gone to actually care. "Well, guess what, hamhock? You're not my type!"

Kurt almost takes a step back at the utterly terrifying look that past over Karofsky's face, but Blaine whispers _Courage_ and Kurt stands his ground.

"Is that so?" Karofsky's voice is low and dangerous and from far away Kurt knows he should just drop it and leave, but his mouth has other ideas.

"Yeah, I don't dig on sweaty guys that'll be bald by thirty." He says with as much contempt as he can muster.

"What about Blaine?"

That shut's Kurt up. He stares at Karofsky with huge blue eyes, suddenly more nervous than angry. He's never heard someone say a name with so much hatred and jealousy and Karofsky just looks at him. Kurt forces his mouth to move.

"What about him?"

"Is he your type?"

Kurt flinches at the shout. The door seems really far away now. He wonders if Blaine knows where he is.

"IS ANDERSON YOUR TYPE?" Karofsky punctuates the shout with a punch to the lockers and Kurt takes a step back. This situation is suddenly far more dangerous than anticipated.

Sometimes, Kurt hates his mouth.

"Yes." Kurt knows he should feel guilty when he sees Karofsky's face crumble, but the sight of one of his most vicious tormentors in a fraction of the pain they put him through makes a rush of satisfaction flood through him.

Then Karofsky's face changes and Kurt is filled with an instinct to _run, run, get out_ but before he can move a hand is grabbing his shirt and pressing him against the lockers and warm lips that taste of stale beer and cheeseburgers are pressed over his and Kurt is so shocked, he can only stand there as thoughts of _NO NO NOT LIKE THIS_ scream through his mind.

Karofsky steps back and stares at Kurt, clearly just as shocked as Kurt. Kurt feels panic fluttering around the edges of his brain and he gapes at Karosky. For long second, neither of them move, then Karofsky _smiles_ and goes in for a second kiss but this time Kurt shoves him back, one hand over his lips protectively. He feels the burning behind his eyes but he will _not_ cry, _not_ in front of Karofsky. His breaths are short and harsh, and he tries not to cower when Karofsky hits the locker and brushes past him, tries not to think about the heartbroken look on Karofsky's face.

Kurt slumps down against the locker, hand pressed tight against his mouth as if he can keep all of his emotions inside. He shakes. He can hardly breathe.

Karosky _kissed_ him. His first kiss. By a closeted homophobe. Kurt wants to laugh at the sheer cliché-ness of the whole situation but he has a terrifying feeling that if he starts, he'll end up crying.

He can't deal with this. He can't deal with someone else's problems on top of his own. Kurt leaves McKinley and goes home, ignoring everyone and turning off his phone. He cries himself to sleep.

* * *

><p>Kurt calls Blaine late that night. He didn't want to cry anymore, but the <em>feelings<em> kept growing and growing and he'd burst if he didn't let them out—feelings of self-hatred, depression, terror and anxiety. Kurt wants to get better. He wants to be happy. And most of all, he doesn't want to be alone. He's tired of being lonely.

Blaine is half asleep when he picks up.

_"H'lo?"_ Blaine's groggy voice ignites something warm in Kurt's chest.

"Blaine?" Kurt whispers.

He hears shifting and imagines Blaine sitting up and rubbing his hand over his face and through the soft, silky curls Kurt desperately wants to touch. "Kurt? It's like three in the morning, are you alright?" There's a note of panic in Blaine's voice.

"No, no, I'm fine." Kurt assures him quickly. He pauses. "Physically," Kurt says softly. He speaks quickly to cover the confession. "I'm sorry I woke you up."

"It's alright. I don't mind. What's up? Why did you leave school today?"

Kurt wants to cry at the honesty in Blaine's voice. He can see the huge hazel-green eyes filled with worry and the thick eyebrows drawn together in his mind. Blaine is probably fiddling with one of his many earrings like he does when he gets nervous. Kurt hears a faint chinking through the phone that tells him he's right.

He takes a deep breath, suddenly scared as hell.

"Did you mean what you said?" The whisper is so quiet that Kurt wonders if he'll have to repeat himself. He hopes not. Those six words were the hardest ones he's ever said. Kurt never asks for help, and he feels like doing it now and he has no idea why. He sucks in a breath, knowing Blaine could break him in a second. The silence draws on.

He wishes he knew what Blaine was thinking.

He prays Blaine knows what he is talking about.

_"Kurt…"_ Kurt's heart is in his throat and he's having trouble breathing_. "Of course. Yeah. I'm listening. I want to help."_ Blaine's voice is breathless, like he understands the responsibility Kurt has just thrown at him. Kurt chokes back a sob. _"What do you need?"_

Kurt loses it. Tears spill over as he presses a hand to his mouth and wills the cries to stay silent. No one has bothered to ask him that for months. No one cared enough too. And now here was Blaine.

Sweet Blaine, who was still a mystery. Who sits at lunch with him and endures the rumors. Who holds his hand in the hallways without a second thought. Who stands up for him. Who fights for him.

Who sees Kurt.

_"Kurt? Tell me what you need."_

He thinks. What does he need?

"Sing to me?" Kurt's voice is thick. He needs to hear someone sing to him. It happens in Glee all the time: people singing for each other. But not for Kurt. _Never _for Kurt. The last time he's had a song sung to him was a week before his mother died. Before the cancer stole her energy and her life.

Blaine is silent for a long time. "_Kurt? I'm still here; I was trying to find a song. And—and promise not to laugh?"_ Blaine sounds so nervous that Kurt wants to laugh. Like he'd ever laugh at Blaine like that.

"I won't laugh."

_"Okay."_ Blaine chuckles softly. "_Ready for your ears to cry?"_

"I doubt you're that bad, Blaine." On the contrary, Kurt knew Blaine had to be perfect. His voice was so beautiful just speaking.

Blaine snorted. "_Alright. Here goes…"_ There's a fumbling and then Blaine begins.

"'_Wake up and smile,  
>Put on a tie,<br>Walk to the car and wave goodbye,'"_

Kurt is transfixed. Blaine had slowed the song down to a ballad form, but his voice had a rich tone and Kurt gets lost in the lyrics.

"'_You're one moment away ,  
>One chance left to take,<br>And you're gone  
>Are they gonna remember you for running away<br>Or saving the day from the darkness  
>And letting your love shine through?<br>What will you do?  
>You're one moment away…'"<em>

When Blaine lets the last note trail off, Kurt listens to his quiet breathing for a few seconds. He knows he has a lot to think about. Karofsky, Blaine, himself.

Why does it feel like this?

Kurt swallows the lump in his throat. "Wouldn't have pegged you for such a sap." He says hoarsely.

Blaine laughs at that. "_Don't worry, Hummel, I have plenty of screamo to fit the stereotype."_ Kurt relaxes with the easy banter. He's suddenly exhausted, physically and mentally. His head is such a jumble of emotions that he feels dizzy. What was Blaine doing to him?

"_Listen to the lyrics though. I meant them."_ Blaine's tone is seriously and Kurt shivers.

"Okay." He whispers.

"_You're stronger than you think you are."_

Kurt wants so much to believe him.

"_Call me if you need to?"_ Blaine sounds so hopeful. And worried.

Kurt wonders what Blaine thought he was about to do. Did Blaine think he was suicidal or something?

"I will." Kurt promises and hangs up. He buries himself deep into his covers and tries not to think of all those times when he locked himself in the bathroom and stared at the razor blade he'd stolen from his father's garage.

* * *

><p><em>Song- One Moment Away by The Afters<em>


	4. Chapter 4

The week drags on slowly.

Blaine is still stuck in detention every day until five, so Kurt has to face Glee alone. It's tiring. He'd hoped things would change after he sung, but they hadn't. Not really.

He gets a few more looks sent his way, a more greetings. But they're afraid of him. Now that they know Kurt wasn't doing alright for a while, they don't know how to talk to him. So Kurt watches the Glee club get swept up in their own drama and lets him be.

Kurt doesn't hate them for it.

Karofsky walks by and slams him into a locker. Kurt bites back a whimper and pretends not to notice how his hand stayed on his shoulder for an extra second, how Karofsky's eyes suddenly darken with lust. He schools his face into a glare and marches away.

He pretends not to feel Karofsky's eyes on his ass.

"Hey."

Three days after "the incident," Karofsky corners Kurt at his locker. He stands in front of Kurt, arms crossed, face impassive. Kurt swallows the sudden fear and wishes Blaine were there. Or anyone, actually. School is over; it's just him and Karofsky in the empty hallway.

"What do you want?" Kurt is proud of how his voice doesn't shake even though his knees feel like collapsing out from under him. He sucks in a startled breath when Karofsky crowds him into the locker, surrounds him with the stench of sweat and the boys' locker room.

"I just wanna say," Karofsky drops his voice into a dangerous tone. "That if you ever tell anyone what happened in the locker room? I'll kill you."

Kurt stops breathing. Karofsky is close, too close, almost kissing distance. He presses back into the cold metal, suddenly wishing he could melt into the lockers like one of the X-Men from Finn's comics. In that moment, Kurt doesn't doubt Karofsky. Karofsky is scared, which Kurt can understand. And scared people do desperate things.

But as often as Kurt sometimes considers suicide, he's not ready to die.

So he nods, though the cold tendril of fear wrapped around his heart doesn't go away, even after Karofsky mutters a quiet "Good," and walks out.

Kurt stares into space, tired and exhausted.

He has too many secrets.

Too many feelings.

And not all of them are his.

Kurt fires off a text to Blaine.

_When you get out, I need you._

He walks to his car to wait for Blaine's detention to end. He slides in to the driver's seat. After a few seconds' consideration, he locks the doors, mindful of how close he'd parked to the gym entrance.

For the first time in several months, Kurt cries during the day.

* * *

><p>Kurt is scared.<p>

He hasn't told Blaine what happened, though sometimes he suspects Blaine knows something went down the day Kurt called him, crying and begging for a song. They don't talk about that. Kurt's grateful.

Blaine glares at Karofsky all the time. And Blaine touches him more, always knocking his shoulders or rubbing his back, like he wants Kurt to realize not all touches can be bad or filled with hate. He frowns the first few times when Kurt almost jumps out of his skin, but then Kurt feels himself getting used to Blaine. Actually, Blaine is the only person that could sneak up on Kurt without a minor freak out.

Kurt hates himself.

Karofsky hasn't stopped. He still throws Kurt into the lockers and the dumpsters, which Kurt can handle. No, it's the _touches_ and the _looks_ that terrify Kurt.

He has no idea what Karofsky is going to do. As the touches get increasingly bold, both in violence and reverence, Kurt finds himself latching on to other people. He tries not to walk down the halls alone, always finding Blaine or Rachel or Finn.

Blaine is the safest.

After the beatdown Blaine gave the football players, none of them want to mess with him again. And Blaine enjoys being the knight in shining armor. While Kurt has accepted the fact that he is weak, Kurt hates having to depend on Blaine for protection.

He's not a girl.

He's not a princess.

But fuck, sometimes it's really hard to keep on walking tall.

Kurt feels his walls building up again. He hardly talks anymore, though he tries to be normal with Blaine. He's probably not doing a good job though, because sometimes while watching a movie at Kurt's house (it's always Kurt's house; Blaine never goes home unless he has to and Kurt wonders but it's not his business so he lets it go), Blaine will stop and give Kurt long, searching looks. Kurt pretends not to notice.

He's been doing a lot of pretending lately.

The nights are the worst. In school, at least he is surrounded by other people. Kurt can focus on the lessons, on talking to Blaine, on dealing Rachel's latest fuck-up in regards to her and Finn's relationship.

But huddled deep under his covers, when everything thing is dark and lonely, the nightmares come.

They vary. Most have Karofsky. Some are the locker room, but this time Karofsky doesn't stop, just keeps going, keeps kissing him and going further; in some Karofsky finds him after school and hurts him and no one hears Kurt screaming, everyone keeps walking by.

_I'll kill you._

In Kurt's dreams, Karofsky follows through.

He begins to wake up with his face pressed into his pillow to muffle his screams, heart pounding and eyes red with tears. Kurt goes through cover-up like crazy to hide the bags under his eyes and the bruises.

It had been getting better.

It _had been_.

But now Kurt feels like he's right back to where he started.

* * *

><p><em>Tap.<em>

_Tap._

_Tap._

Kurt isn't sleeping. It's one in the morning, and he hasn't even tried. He's sketching a few designs, trying to get his mind exhausted enough to not dream. But then there are taps on his window.

_Tap._

Kurt opens it and leans out into the chilly night. And blinks.

"Blaine?"

Blaine is standing under his window with a pinecone in each hand. When he sees Kurt leaning out, he grins in the moonlight. "Hey!" Blaine waves. "Can I come up?"

Confused, Kurt just nods. He shuts the window and hurries down the stairs, careful to keep quiet as he passes Finn's and his dad's and step-mom's room. When he opens the front door, Blaine is barely inside before he throws himself in Kurt's arms and buries his face in Kurt's neck.

"I missed you."

"We just saw each other like, five hours ago. You ate dinner with us."

Blaine shrugs against Kurt, shoulders tense. Kurt can smell a faint scent of leather and cigarettes and _Blaine_. He breathes deep and hugs Blaine a little closer. Blaine sighs happily. "Doesn't matter. Still missed you."

It's getting really, really hard to not fall for this boy.

Kurt shoves his feelings back in a tiny box in the back of his heart. "Let's go to my room before Dad finds us and shoots you." Kurt giggles at Blaine's face. "I'm kidding. His shotgun is in storage."

"That's not funny," Blaine mutters grumpily, but follows Kurt, avoiding the creaky fourth stair and the spot next to Finn's room that always groans if it's stepped on.

Kurt wonders what the hell Blaine's doing. It's a Friday night. Blaine has to have better things to do than sneak into the school's resident punching bag's bedroom and flop on his bed and snuggle into Kurt's admittedly amazing pillows.

"I love your pillows," Blaine giggles as he squeezes a particularly fluffy white one. He kicks off his boots and sits on Kurt's bed cross legged. "Oh hey, you design clothes?" Blaine abandons the pillows in favor of Kurt's half finished sketches.

Closing the door, Kurt tries not to panic. Why the hell hadn't he moved those before going downstairs? No one has ever seen his designs. No one. They were stupid.

"Kurt, stop freaking out. These are amazing." Kurt lets out a shaky laugh and climbs on the bed. He sits in front of Blaine and watches his friend flip through his sketchbook. Blaine is careful, only touching the edges of the pages so he doesn't smudge the drawings. His eyes are wide with wonder and his mouth is pulled up in a small smile.

"It's a little unsettling how easy you can read me." Kurt doesn't watch Blaine's strong hands. Or the way the white shirt pulls on his muscles. Blaine is a friend. _Just_ a friend.

But it's hard to remember this when Blaine smirks and rubs Kurt's knee. "I'm learning." His hazel eyes twinkle merrily.

Blaine studies all of Kurt's designs, even making Kurt explain a few. And he _listens_. Kurt can almost forget what a fuck up he is when he's around Blaine. Blaine makes him feel special and important and like he matters.

Not like Karofsky. Kurt shivers and tells Blaine about his ideal fashion show, right down to the catwalk music and the order of the lights. Blaine shakes his head and laughs.

Hours later, they lay on Kurt's bed in a darkened room. By unspoken agreement, Blaine is sleeping over. Kurt wants to ask why Blaine didn't want to stay at his own house, but. Kurt had so many secrets; he could afford to let Blaine keep a few.

He wonders if Blaine's asleep.

He wonders if he'll have a nightmare tonight.

"Kurt?"

"Yeah?" They're quiet. Kurt feels Blaine shift next to him until Blaine is on his side, looking directly at Kurt. His eyes are narrowed, like he's trying to solve a particularly hard problem. They're worried.

"Can I ask you something?"

Kurt heart is in his throat, pounding and choking him. _Blaine knows._ Kurt doesn't answer.

It doesn't faze Blaine.

"I'd really like for you to talk to me about what happened on Tuesday." Blaine rubs his knuckles gently. "Something upset you. And you're scared."

"I'm always scared, Blaine." Kurt swallows the lump in his throat. He will _not_ cry.

Blaine shifts closer, holding Kurt's hand tightly. This close, Kurt can see the emotions in Blaine's eyes. He sees worry, and care, and fear.

Why is Blaine scared?

"Kurt, please, please talk to me. I want to help you." Blaine whispers.

Kurt shakes his head but he can't look away from Blaine's eyes. "No. No. I'm not worth it."

_Karofsky used me._

_I'm just a thing._

_I'm weak._

_Dirty._

_Useless._

_You can do better._

He jumps at Blaine's sudden growl. "Stop that. You are. You're _so_ worth it, why can't you see that?"

Kurt can't answer. But maybe he should tell Blaine. Get it all out there so he can get over this stupid crush and Blaine can leave him. Like everyone else did.

"Okay." Kurt wets his suddenly dry lips. It's hard; it's too hard to say these words. Because now that he's decided to tell Blaine, he realizes how much he wants Blaine to stay. But he is a Hummel. And Hummels are men of their word.

Blaine is close now. Kurt squeezes his hand.

"I was waiting for you. After you got your phone taken away by Liptak."

The words tumble out of Kurt's mouth, finally released from days of being bottled up and hidden away. Kurt tries not to notice how Blaine clenches his teeth or a balls one of his hands into a fist like he wants to punch something. And then Blaine doesn't pull away, doesn't recoil in disgust, just draws Kurt in and rubs his back until Kurt's hitching breaths and chest-wracking sobs calm down.

The sun comes up, painting Kurt's room with soft reds and yellows.

"I ruined your shirt."

Blaine snorts. "I really don't care, Kurt."

Kurt is silent, absently running his fingers over Blaine's shoulder.

Friends don't do this, right? Kurt ignores his brain and presses his face into Blaine's arm, grounding himself in Blaine's scent.

"Sometimes I hate myself," Kurt admits. His words are slightly muffled from the fabric, but Blaine hears him. Blaine shifts, pushing Kurt off enough to look at him.

"Why?"

Blaine is angry. Eyes flashing, muscles tense, mouth frowning.

How can Kurt explain this? "I'm tired of crying. Of being scared all the time." Kurt shifts in closer. "I don't want be broken anymore." His eyes are burning again, and Kurt wants to scream.

Blaine pushes Kurt into a sitting position silently. He puts his hands on Kurt's shoulder, firm and strong and confident. "Listen to me," he says. "Do you trust me?"

Kurt thinks, but he really doesn't have to. "Yeah," he says, meeting Blaine's intense hazel eyes. In the dawning light, they're more gold than brown, with beautiful green flecks strewn throughout. _Blaine is lovely._

The answer makes Blaine smile. "Okay," he breathes. "Kurt, you are so strong and so brave. And you're not broken." Blaine is so sure; Kurt doesn't want to change his mind. Even if it's all a lie.

"I feel pretty damn broken, Blaine."

But Blaine just shakes his head and smiles sadly. "You aren't broken. Just a little lost." He leans in, and Kurt's breath hitches for a second. "You can find your way back. And I'm going to be right here."

* * *

><p><strong>An-**

Hey Look! Some more!

I still don't know where I'm going with this. I don't think this will be very long though.

Thanks for all the reviews/alerts/favs! I appreciate them all so much!

**Update 5/16-** more grammar fixes...thanks for being patient =]


	5. Chapter 5

Things change again after Blaine spends the night in Kurt's bed. He feels it when he wakes up-cheeks stiff with dried tears and muscled cramped from clutching the boy while they sleep. Something beneath the surface is _different_.

Kurt doesn't know what to make of it, so he lets it go.

It's something that's been getting easier.

* * *

><p>Blaine doesn't leave Kurt's side. Before, it was unusual to see them apart, but now it's downright apocalyptic.<p>

Between classes, Blaine appears and attaches himself to Kurt's hip, smelling slightly of cigarettes and sandalwood and leather and glaring at anyone that dares to come near them. Karofsky stays away when Blaine is there, but it doesn't stop the looks or the threatening hind signs.

A locker slams and Kurt instinctively flinches.

Then one day Blaine isn't in school.

Kurt waits by his locker for the curly-haired leather-wearing teen to show up, but the clock hands slide to 7:22 and Kurt has to book it to make it to homeroom on time. He sends Blaine a text before he realizes what he's doing, and curses himself as soon as he finished. It's one day. Blaine was probably sick. Kurt could handle one day by himself in McKinley.

He'd done it before Blaine.

So Kurt keeps his head high and tries to ignore that tiny voice in his head whispering that _Blaine would never leave you alone like this, not on purpose, something is really really wrong._

They aren't even dating, why should he feel so codependent on just a friend?

Kurt's internal war lasts until English.

Without Blaine, the bullies revert to their old ways, trying to squeeze weeks of missed chances into one day. Kurt's already been slushied twice and locker-checked four times. The bruises he's been so carefully monitoring for healing just got set back weeks.

Karofsky promises Kurt a present after Glee, a really unsettling glint in his eyes.

But Kurt could ignore that. It's nothing he hasn't dealt with before. No, what really scares him is the fact that Blaine hasn't replied to his texts yet. Any of them.

His phone is constantly in his hands and Kurt can't help but check it every few seconds, willing it to vibrate and light up. It remains silent. Kurt glares at the offending hunk of glass and plastic.

"Kurt?" Rachel whispers. She gives him a concerned look. "What's going on? Where's Blaine?"

Everyone knew Blaine was absent. The seat beside Kurt was glaringly vacant and Kurt saw all the tiny glances everyone threw at him when Mr. Burgess rapped his desk and began lecturing about the importance of diction. Kurt and Blaine were a package deal and no Blaine combined with a nervous, edgy Kurt…well. People knew.

"I don't know." Kurt glanced at his phone again. A thousand scenarios went through his mind.

Maybe he was sick and was sleeping it off.

_But he would have texted you._

Maybe he overslept.

_He still would have come to school._

Maybe…maybe…

Rachel shifts in a little closer. "Is everything alright? I can't imagine he'd leave you alone like this," she lightly touches his corn syrup-stained shirt.

"I'm fine," Kurt waves it off. _What if something really bad happened? _Kurt stiffens.

Rachel studies him, like she knew where his thoughts just went.

"Lunch is next. Why don't you go check on him? I'll tell everyone you felt sick and cover for you in Glee."

Kurt never thought he would want to hug Rachel Berry more than that moment.

* * *

><p>The Andersons' house is huge.<p>

Kurt had no idea Ohio even had mansions like this.

He swallows as he drives his Navigator up the long driveway, noting how the grass is perfectly cut and the bushes are neatly trimmed. The house could have been on the cover of _Better Homes and Gardens_ and not look the slightest bit out of place. He sees Blaine's car and parks behind it, eying the large mahogany door apprehensively.

Class was something Kurt could fake. As the son of a mechanic, he was used to being looked down upon by upper society members at the garage. He secretly enjoyed their shocked faces when he out-bitched any one of the high-class socialites. And he dressed better. But staring up at the three story mansion will expensive landscaping and more windows than he thought possible, Kurt knew he was way out of his element.

_To: Blaine  
>I'm at your house. Answer the door. I know you're in there, I can see your car.<em>

Kurt keeps his phone in his hand as he gets out of his car and walks to the door, faking confidence. Just what was Blaine playing at anyway? The house looms silently and even the doorbell chimes emptily.

It felt abandoned. Stuffy.

Wrong.

Kurt is about to ring the bell again when his phone buzzes.

_From: Blaine  
>Just come in. go up the stairs it's the second to last door on the right<em>

Kurt frowns at the text, the apprehensive feeling growing. But he twists the doorknob and it popps open, creaking slightly. Kurt walks in, shutting the door behind him.

It looks like a photo set.

Everything is cleaned, dusted, arranged just so. Vases with perfect white flowers. Spotless mirrors. Tasteful art on the walls.

It doesn't feel like home.

Kurt can see Blaine (_beautiful, happy, restless Blaine)_ dying slowly inside this gilded cage of wealth and class.

He shivers and walks up the stairs.

* * *

><p>"Come in," Blaine's voice is faint through the thick door. Kurt opens it and slips in.<p>

The air is different here. Less stiff. More _Blaine_. It's a mess, books and papers and sheet music litter the floor and the desk. The walls have posters of everything from Broadway plays to heavy metal bands to pictures of boys in private school uniforms.

A guitar and a keyboard are in a corner.

And then there's Blaine.

Kurt wants to cry out, to yell and scream, but stays quiet. He walks over and sits on the edge of Blaine's bed. Blaine keeps his head down, his hands fiddling with his phone. He's fully dressed, but the bed is messed up and Kurt has a feeling Blaine hasn't left it since last night.

He thinks he might have an idea of what happened.

He thinks he's known for a while.

_"What happened to your eye?"_

_ "Bar fight." Blaine shakes Kurt's hand off. "I'm fine."_

_ He's lying. "It looks painful."_

_ "Nothing I haven't had a thousand times before."_

_ The words scare Kurt._

_Blaine sleeps over in Kurt's room more often that week, always sneaking out before dawn._

Kurt suddenly wants to be sick.

"Blaine?"

The curly-haired head stays down.

"Blaine, please talk to me." Kurt reaches out and puts a hand on Blaine's arm. When he doesn't react, Kurt shifts in closer. "Blaine, I'm sorry I didn't—"

That got Blaine's attention. His head snaps up and Kurt tries to suppress a gasp. The right side of his face is discolored to a dark purple, his eye almost swollen shut. Kurt notices the washcloth in Blaine's hands, soaked with blood from a cut on his head.

"Oh God, Blaine—"

"It's not your fault," Blaine interrupts. He looks distressed so Kurt doesn't protest, but he does grip Blaine's hand tightly. "It's—it's not your fault. Don't feel bad. It happens a lot."

Kurt feels like crying and screaming all at once. God, his emotions have been all over the place this week. "How the hell am I not supposed to feel bad about your dad beating the shit out of you on a daily basis?" Kurt snaps, suddenly angry. Parents weren't supposed to treat their kids like this. Bullying at school was somewhat accepted, but child abuse was an entirely different ballgame. And how dare someone lay a hand on Blaine? _His_ Blaine? Kurt shakes his head at his weird thoughts. "Give me the wash cloth." He glares at Blaine until he hands it over and Kurt marches over to the bathroom.

Only the Andersons would have two master bedrooms.

Inside the white-tiled room, Kurt sees more evidence of what must have been a truly spectacular beating. The trashcan overflows with bloodied tissues and bandages, there are drops of blood in the shower that hadn't been washed away. Kurt tries to ignore all this and turns the sink on, soaking the washcloth with cold water.

The runoff is pink.

Kurt squeezes his eyes shut and fights back tears.

Blaine was always there for Kurt. It was Kurt's turn. And Blaine needed strength.

But Kurt still hated himself for not doing more.

When he has control of himself, and once he finds painkillers in the medicine cabinet, Kurt walks back into the bedroom.

Blaine is sitting up, though his head is down. He lifts it when Kurt sits in front of him.

"I brought Tylenol."

"I have to wait another two hours." Blaine sounds different. Defeated.

Kurt folds the washcloth carefully and holds it over the gash on Blaine's head. It follows Blaine's hairline for a few inches before twisting back up into his curls. "May I?" Kurt asks.

Blaine nods, and sighs almost imperceptibly when Kurt gently wipes the blood away. The silence stretches on as the white cloth turns pink.

Blaine breaks it.

"I'm sorry." Kurt stops for a second but resumes cleaning Blaine up. Blood had dripped down the side of his face and neck. "I wanted to go to school but I got hit really hard and didn't wake up until late and I didn't want to leave you alone because fucking _Karofsky _is there and I don't trust him at all but then you were texting me that you were _here_ and I didn't want you to see me like this and—"

"Blaine."

He quiets, though Kurt sees a few tears leak out. A piece of his heart breaks.

"I didn't want you to know," Blaine repeats dully, staring at his fingers. "You had so much other stuff to deal with, and I just thought if I could help you I could forget my fucked up life and maybe I could be worth something."

Kurt lifts Blaine's chin. "Look at me." Blaine reluctantly lifts his good eye to Kurt's.

"I'm sorry I'm not perfect." Blaine whispers.

"I never expected you to be." Kurt finds himself moving to sit next to Blaine, arms wrapping around suddenly small shoulders. He ran his fingers through Blaine's curls. Blaine grabs his waist and buries his head in the crook of Kurt's shoulder.

They lay there for a while. Blaine shakes a little, but Kurt just keeps stroking Blaine's hair and singing softly.

"It's my dad." Blaine says into Kurt's skin.

Kurt tries to ignore the sudden rush of rage that swells up in his chest towards the faceless Mr. Anderson.

"My mom…we left him. Just before we came here. But he keeps coming back. He promised he changed but I didn't believe him. Mom did. And…she's happy. She's happy with him."

Kurt holds him tighter. Everything is falling into place.

"She doesn't know. It's never where it's visible and it's never when she's home. That's how the Andersons work. If it's not right in front of you, you ignore it and hide it and keep up appearances." Blaine scoffs. "But a divorce looks bad. And she stills love him. He beats her son—her _gay _son—all the time but she still loves him. And yeah, she left him once, but how can I ruin her happiness again?" Kurt's shirt is wet now and Blaine's shoulders shake. "I've already disappointed her because I'm gay, how can I take her husband away too?"

"Blaine…"

Blaine sits ups abruptly. "Don't. I didn't want you to know. Don't be upset. What you're going through is so much worse. I'm just being a bitch about it."

Kurt sees red. "God, shut up, Blaine! We're not comparing us!" He glares. "Blaine, I feel guilty because I've been seeing signs for weeks but I didn't want to force you to talk about because I know what keeping secrets is like. But I should have. Because this," Kurt waves his hand at Blaine's face. "Is not okay."

"It's fine, it's…" Blaine is very small. Kurt's knight in shining armor is reduced to a scared little boy just like him.

And Kurt doesn't care.

He actually thinks he loves Blaine more.

A sob suddenly escapes Blaine's mouth.

"I'm such a fuck-up I couldn't even protect you."

Oh. "Blaine, no…"

"It's my fault. I shouldn't have told you to stand up to Karofsky when I can't even stand up to my own father." Blaine's legs are drawn up tight against his chest and he hides his face in his knees.

Kurt wonders how long Blaine had felt like this. "Blaine, I don't blame you. I would have done something even if you hadn't given me courage." He puts his hand on Blaine's back but Blaine curls in smaller. "You saved me, Blaine. Let me save you. We can get through this." Blaine stills under his hand. "Please, let me help."

Blaine lifts his head, his eyes rimmed with red and tears. He sniffs ungracefully and grabs Kurt's hand. "Okay," he whispers.

Kurt can't hide his smile. "Do you want to stay at my house tonight?"

Blaine flinches. "Your father—"

"He'll understand."

Blaine's eyes shine with hope. Kurt decides he wants to see that expression every day and resolves to do his best to keep Blaine happy. That's love, isn't it?

Blaine blows his nose with a random tissue and lets out a small laugh. "God, we're a mess aren't we?" His lips twitch in a small smile.

"The worst kind," Kurt laughs, pulls Blaine to stand up. "Come on. Let's go."

They aren't perfect.

They have flaws.

But maybe they can save each other.

* * *

><p><strong>AN-**

**Here! Some more!**

**Um yeah. This is probably ridiculously self-indulgent and over-dramatic but in my defense I can only write this story when I'm dying of insomnia. So, enjoy it for what it is.**

**As always, thank you for reading, I appreciate all of you =]**


	6. Chapter 6

"Teach me how to fight."

Kurt stands firm under Blaine's incredulous look. He'd been thinking about asking Blaine for a while, mulling the idea over in his head around and around until he was sure. Maybe bringing it up in the hallway before classes wasn't the best idea, but Kurt had to. Before he lost his nerve.

"You hate violence." Blaine raises an eyebrow and takes out a lighter. He flicks the flame on and off, on and off. A teacher walks by, but wisely stays silent. It's not like they care anyway.

The black eye is fading. The purple now a sick yellow. Kurt knows it still hurts; he saw Blaine pop a few Tylenol pills before parking next to Kurt's locker. A week later, and Mr. Anderson's marks are still all over Blaine. Kurt's possessive side snarls silently.

He shuts his locker, thinking. Explaining this had to be done right so Blaine understood. It wasn't about the violence. Kurt did hate violence; even the thought of blood makes him feel faint (how he didn't pass out at Blaine's was a miracle), but. But.

"I'll explain to you after school." Kurt forces his face into a half smile. He just needs to get it straight in his own head.

Blaine doesn't let Kurt go to his locker after their last class. Instead, he pulls Kurt along to the school's weight room. How he even had a key, Kurt can't even begin to imagine, but then Blaine guides him to the heavily taped punching bag and sits him down on a nearby bench while he runs into the locker room.

Kurt grips the strap of his bag with white fingers, trying not to panic. He forgot how the gym smells like sweat and boys and _him._ His legs tremble and Kurt fights the urge get the hell out of there, but he's _with Blaine, I'm safe, I'm safe you fucking weakling_.

Some days, he hates himself.

But Blaine is back, stripped down to a white tank top and gym shorts, his hands wrapped in tape. He sees Kurt's heavy breathing, Kurt knows he sees it, but Blaine doesn't comment. Kurt tries not to notice the muscles and the skin and holy hell, how were girls not throwing themselves at this god on earth?

Blood rushes up to his cheeks and Kurt curses himself silently. Blaine has a cocky grin on now, but he turns serious.

"Why do you want to fight, Kurt?"

Kurt blinks, looks into Blaine's eyes. They're cautious, worried, but…respectful? Kurt swallows, remembering the words that came to him in the middle of history class and how he wrote them down, over and over.

"It's easier to be angry than scared." Kurt whispers. He looks resolutely at a point over Blaine's shoulder. "I'm tired of being scared. I'm tired of being weak. I don't…I don't want to attack anyone." A surge of pride rushes through his veins and he meets Blaine's eyes. "But. I want the courage to fight for myself."

It's the right thing to say. Blaine stares at him before chuckling.

"Well, let's get you changed and into a pair of gloves."

* * *

><p>Blaine is a hard teacher. Kurt tries to wipe the sweat off his forehead, but his arm is just as wet so he gives up. He feels like he jumped in the pool. The thin tank top Blaine lent him is soaked through and sticks to his body as he pounds out set after set under Blaine's coaching.<p>

Jab right, jab left, hook, cross, uppercut. Over and over for weeks.

"Again."

Kurt considers punching Blaine instead, but the boy eyes him with a challenging look, and Kurt won't back down. He sighs, shakes out his trembling arms, and takes his stance again.

It's been three weeks since Blaine started the lessons. Twice a week, after school and after all the club sports were done, Kurt and Blaine sneak in to use the punching bag. Blaine was intent on teaching Kurt everything he knew, and Kurt was surprised at how much he liked it.

Punching the bag is calming. Methodical. Kurt gets lost in the rhythmic thud, thuds and his harsh breaths. Again. Again. He takes out all of his anger and frustration on the heavy bag, and it leaves him too exhausted to feel. Just him, the bag, and Blaine's voice, urging him _Harder, Kurt, make the bag feel it. Let your anger go._

Kurt hasn't cried in three weeks. His arms are more defined, and he knows he walks straighter. He thinks his dad has noticed, but Burt doesn't say anything.

But…

Karofsky still scares him. Every day, Kurt walks down the hall and flinches when he hears _that voice_, tensing up until Blaine bumps into him and smiles and banishes the fear.

It wouldn't be so bad, Kurt thinks; if he could just figure out what Karofsky _wanted_. Because he feels the locker shoves, the dumpster tosses, the slushies. But he also feels the lingering eyes, the subtle touches, the hungry smirks.

Kurt just punches the bag harder.

* * *

><p>Blaine stays over almost every night.<p>

At first, he sneaks in during the middle of the night and stays in Kurt's bed, slipping out again before the alarm.

Until Burt catches them.

He's angry until he sees Blaine's defiant face and bruise. With a deep sigh and a tired groan, Burt pulls out a spare blanket and pillow and sets up the couch.

"Now I want 'cha to know," Burt begins, "You always have a place to stay. But your butt stays on this couch 'til morning, got it?"

"Yes, sir," Blaine says wonderingly.

"None of that 'sir' crap. Name's Burt." Burt claps his hand on Blaine's shoulder and steers him to the couch.

"Thanks, Burt," Blaine grins, huge and happy and Kurt feels his heart swell.

Later, as he follows his father up the stairs, Kurt suddenly hugs him, squeezing tightly.

"Thanks, dad," he whispers.

Burt grunts, but Kurt sees the proud look on his dad's face when he pulls away. There's a twinge of guilt when Kurt thinks about how he should tell him about the bullying at school, but Kurt pushes it down.

"He's the one who's been teaching you to box?"

Kurt stiffens.

"I found your gym bag the other day. Gloves and wraps." Burt looks his son up and down. "You like it?"

"I…" Kurt thinks. "Yeah. It's nice. Blaine's a good teacher." He smiles a little. "I'm getting better."

Burt nods as if he knows something. "I'm not stupid, Kurt. I know something's been going on at school. I just wish you felt like you could tell me."

The blood drains from Kurt's face. This was _not_ where he wanted this conversation heading. "Dad, I—"

Holding up a hand, Burt sighs. "Christ, kid. You don't have to protect me. I'm the parent, you know?" He looks so sad and Kurt kind of wants to smack himself because his dad should _not_ look like that, like it was _his_ fault, because it's not. It's Kurt's. Burt looks at Kurt hard. "Blaine's helping, isn't he?"

"I…" Kurt hugs himself and prays Blaine is asleep because sound carries in this house. "Yeah. He helps me be happy."

"Good. You guys…you guys are good for each other." With a bone-crushing hug and weak smile, Burt slips back into his room. Kurt stands in the hallway, dazed. Then he grabs the pillow and blanket off his bed and sneaks back downstairs.

"Mmmgh…Kurt…?" Blaine blinks when he hears Kurt steal back into the living room. He cracks an eye open when Kurt pushes the coffee table out of the way.

"Shh, go back to sleep, Blaine."

"Why are you on the floor?" Blaine sits up and helps spread the blankets on the floor next to the couch. They bunch the covers up into a makeshift bed. Kurt has a feeling Blaine heard most of the conversation with his dad, but maybe he'll let it be.

"I wasn't going to leave you alone." Kurt says. _I don't want to be alone,_ he thinks.

Blaine gives him a look, like he knows what Kurt is thinking. But Kurt sees that slightly relieved smile. Then it fades and Blaine glances at the stairs nervously.

"Besides, Dad only said you had to stay down here; he didn't say anything about me." Kurt winks. He stacks the pillows and lays down, looking up at Blaine.

"Damn, Hummel, I think I must be rubbing off on you." Blaine grins over the edge of the couch.

"Quiet, you."

"My little rebel."

"I'm taller. And older."

"By a few months."

Kurt snorts and rolls over. Until he feels a tapping on his shoulder. Looking up, he sees Blaine with an outstretched hand. Kurt doesn't even think before grabbing it, letting their hands hang between them. A wave of contentment and comfort washes over him and Kurt feels almost relaxed enough to sleep.

"Kurt?" Blaine's voice is small.

"Yeah?" He's almost drifted off, but Blaine brings him back.

"Your hands are really soft."

"That's what moisturizer is for."

"Kurt?"

"Hmmm?"

"Thank you."

Kurt smiles.

"Of course."

When Finn crashes through the house later that morning, Kurt bolts away with a blush, but he feels the ghost of Blaine's touch for the rest of the day.

* * *

><p>One month into Kurt's training, Karofsky corners him before lunch. Kurt is standing at his locker, waiting for Blaine, when a thick hand grabs him and shoves him into the nearby boy's bathroom. Kurt doesn't have time to react before the lock clicks into place and he's alone with his bully in a small space.<p>

Fear shoots down his spine but Kurt's had practice at standing tall so he does: head high, back straight, chin up. Only his white knuckles gripping his bag strap betray him. Karofsky just silently glares, and somehow, that's worse than when he yells insults and hateful names. The silence is unknown and frightening, and Kurt realizes the very worst thing about this situation is that no one knows where he is. Blaine would think to check the girl's bathroom, but not the boy's, _never_ the boy's because he knows how much Kurt hates the smell and boys don't like to share this private place with gays anyway. Too much of a chance of their dicks being checked out. Like a glance would turn them gay, honestly.

The bathroom's tiles echo their breathing and Kurt is fairly certain Karofsky can hear how hard his heart is _thud-thud_-ing against his ribcage. He wonders what that look in Karofsky's eyes mean. It's hidden and cloudy but hungry, and Kurt shifts his feet into a defensive stance, readying himself.

Karofsky sees Kurt move and scoffs, chuckling at the sight of Kurt trying to defend himself and Kurt feels blood rush to his cheeks. Stupid complexion.

He can't take it anymore.

"Why am I in here?" Kurt bites out. He wants to leave, but Karofsky is in front of the only door and though Kurt is fast, he's not that fast. He thinks about how his bookbag has his physics textbook in it, and much it would hurt to get hit with it.

"I wanna talk to you."

Kurt blinks in surprise. Of all the things he expected, that wasn't one of them. Somehow, he forces his throat to move. "About what?"

Karofsky clears his throat and growls at Kurt's expression. "God, don't look at me like that. I'm not gonna hurt you."

Laughing probably isn't appropriate. "You hurt me on a daily basis, Karofsky. And now you've kidnapped me and locked me into a bathroom with you. How should I look at you?" Kurt manages to keep his voice calm, but only barely. What he wouldn't give to have Blaine here right now.

Karofsky's face flushes and he ducks his head. But only for a second, and then the football persona is back and the nervous little boy is gone.

He moves, too quickly for Kurt to register, and then Kurt's back slams against the wall and thick arm traps his chest. He brings his face close to Kurt's. "This is just a reminder," and Kurt gags at the smell of grease and sweat, "that if you ever tell about kissing me, I'll kill you. That goes for your fuckbuddy too."

Kurt can't breathe, not with his face so close and then Kurt realizes Karofsky isn't looking at his eyes anymore, oh no, they're glancing down at his _lips_ and then one of Blaine's lessons pops up and Kurt brings his knee up _hard_.

Karofsky lets go of Kurt with a high-pitched yelp and doubles over, but Kurt's already brought up an arm and swings his fist directly into Karofsky's face. He hears something crack as pain explodes across his fist. Kurt doesn't stay to see Karofsky collapse to the floor with a bloody face; no, he just books it to the door and flies out once he manages to get his hands to stop shaking enough to turn the lock.

He takes deep, gulping breaths in the wide hallway, but it's not enough, he needs to be _gone_, like right now. Blaine is at his locker, leaning back with one boot on the door and a worried expression that gets even more scared when he sees Kurt. He opens his mouth, but Kurt walks quickly and grabs Blaine's leather jacket, tugging him along. They get outside and the air, the fresh air is _wonderful_. Kurt turns and buries his face in the crook of Blaine's neck, smelling leather and cigarettes and _Blaine_.

It smells safe.

"Jesus, Kurt, what's wrong? What happened?" Blaine finally pries Kurt from his body and holds him at arm's length. "Christ, you're still shaking. Was it Karofsky?" Kurt's voice fails him so he nods, and Blaine swears. Then Blaine notices Kurt's bloody knuckles. "Kurt?"

His hands are gentle, but Kurt can't hold back a hiss of pain. It hurts to moves his fingers. "Karofsky has a face made of iron." He whispers, and Blaine looks up sharply.

"You punched Karofsky?"

"After I kneed him in the balls."

Blaine stares at Kurt before letting out a loud laugh. "Damn, Kurt. I knew you were a fighter, but damn." He grins and Kurt can't help but feel a swell of pride because _Blaine is proud of him._

He stood up for himself.

And damn, but it feels amazing.

Blaine is sobering up, though. "Kurt," he starts. "Why did you need to defend yourself against him?"

Kurt doesn't answer. He sets off for his Navigator. Fuck school. He can't look at Karofsky today. Not again.

But Blaine follows. "Kurt, did he do something? You have to tell someone."

"No I don't." Kurt's in front of his car and digs for his keys. Finn can find his own damn was home. And so can Blaine, because he is done talking about this, why can't anyone let him be?

He forgets how Blaine is like an annoyingly persistent puppy. When he hits the unlock button, Blaine slides into the passenger seat before Kurt can do a thing about it. With a growl, Kurt climbs into the driver's seat and glares at Blaine.

"Get out."

"No."

God, he's so fucking stubborn.

"Blaine. Get out of my car. I'm not telling my dad. We've had this discussion; he doesn't need the stress!" Kurt is yelling by the end.

"He's your father! He has the right to know if you're scared for your safety at school!"

"How the fuck would you know what a father's rights are, considering yours beats you on a daily basis and you won't go to the police? How would you know what a father is supposed to do?" Kurt explodes. He pales at Blaine's face. "No, shit, Blaine, I didn't mean it like that—"

Blaine's face is hard. "Yeah, you did. You meant that exactly how it sounded."

Kurt grips the steering wheel and blinks back tears. Deep breaths. In and out. "I didn't mean to sound like I blame you. Your situation is not your fault. It's your dad's."

"Yeah, just like yours." When Kurt looks over, Blaine is leaning back against the door. He's fingering his earrings and Kurt knows that means he's anxious and Kurt hates that it's his fault. But his eyes are strong and sure. "What David Karofsky does isn't in your control and it's not your fault. If you won't talk about him sexually assaulting you—" Kurt's stomach twists and he looks away, "—then you need to talk about him physically assaulting you."

"It won't do anything."

"It might. And at least you've tried."

Kurt's knuckles are still caked in blood and he stares at the red. "I can handle this myself." Even the words sound empty and false. Blaine leans over and rubs his shoulder.

"You shouldn't have to."

He thinks. Thinks. Kurt hates asking for help. And maybe it will get better, now that Karofsky knows he's willing to fight back. Maybe he'll leave him alone and his dad won't ever find out what a pathetic weakling he has for a son.

"I'll think about it." Kurt lies. He ignores the guilt that flares up at Blaine's relieved grin. What he doesn't know won't hurt him.

On the drive to his house, Kurt tells Blaine all about how he took down a 230-pound football player in two moves. By the time they are inside and Kurt begins making Blaine's favorite cookies, he thinks Blaine might forget their conversation.

Please let Blaine forget.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note-<strong>

**Hey guys! Thanks again for all the reviews and alerts and favs! This is really just word vomit that comes out when I can't sleep, so I appreciate you all taking a chance on this mess. Thank you, guys, it really means a lot to me.**

**Update 5/16- fixed some grammar issues. I don't know when the next chapter will be up, but as always, thanks for all the support!**


	7. Chapter 7

Winter break comes fast.

Kurt hasn't told his dad anything about Karofsky, and Blaine's long since given up on forcing him to. But school's out for two blessed weeks, and Kurt has every intention of milking his freedom for all it's worth. Some of his bruises might even start to heal.

Karofsky watches as Kurt walks out the door. Kurt's skin crawls under his gaze and he presses closer to Blaine. His nose has healed, but it's slightly crooked now. He tells everyone he got it in a bar fight, as if that makes him a badass. Even Puckerman is cowed for a few days before he hijacks the announcement system and gets halfway through burping the Star-Spangled Banner before Coach Sylvester breaks down the door. He reclaims his King Badass crown, and Karofsky goes back to being just some dumb jock to the rest of school. Only at McKinley.

But it's halfway through December with Christmas a week away and all at once, Kurt's free from hours of school and friends and _him_. It's such a relief, the last day of school; walking out of the doors and into the snow.

"So I was thinking." Blaine says, leaning against Kurt's car. He never takes his anymore. He hardly goes home, preferring to stick to Kurt like glue.

"That's dangerous." Kurt quips, smiling faintly. God, it's freezing. He quickly unlocks the door and slides in, sighing at the slight warmth.

"Hilarious, Hummel." Blaine snorts and climbs into the passenger seat. "Anyway, I have a bunch of movies you need to watch, so I thought we could have a movie marathon. And you can make us cookies." He grins at Kurt. "Hey, come on, I'm serious! It'll be fun!"

Kurt rolls his eyes and starts the car, pulling out slowly. "The last time I trusted you with a movie, you put on Kill Bill."

"It's a fantastic movie, Kurt, you know that."

"She stepped on her _eye_, oh my _god_, Blaine—"

"That was the second one! And Tarantino is classic, even you admitted it!"

"Her _eye_, Blaine!" Kurt laughs at Blaine's insulted expression. The movie scarred him for life. Eye injuries freak him out. "If you promise me no blood, maybe."

Blaine groans. "But that is so restrictive, some movies are great with a little—Kurt, watch out!" Blaine shouts.

Kurt slams on the brakes. The car comes to a screeching halt in front of David Karofsky. Kurt stares at his cold eyes, heart pounding. After a few seconds, Karofsky winks, then continues walking across the parking lot.

"Kurt? Do you want me to drive?" Blaine was looking at Kurt's shaking hands. Kurt nods jerkily. He can't drive, not like this. Blaine switches seats with him, and Kurt draws his knees up to his chest and looks out the window. The light-hearted air is gone.

* * *

><p>Hiding from Karofsky is actually harder now than at school.<p>

At least during school, Kurt has a vague idea of where he is. Now, though, Karofsky shows up everywhere. The supermarket, the mall, the movie theater. Always just watching. Staring.

Kurt starts getting nightmares. He wakes up muffling screams into his pillow, sometimes calling Blaine if Blaine isn't already there. It takes Blaine hours to calm Kurt down. He sings until he's hoarse, but doesn't leave. Kurt falls more in love with him every time.

He thinks he's going crazy.

Any sudden movement near him; and Kurt screams. Everyone startles him, even Blaine sometimes. He expects to see Karofsky's hulking frame in every shadow, behind every door.

"I'm going crazy," Kurt whispers to Blaine one night. They're curled up in Kurt's bed after Kurt had another nightmare. Blaine will have to sneak back downstairs in a few hours, but for now, they huddle together under the covers. Blaine holds him tight, but Kurt still trembles.

"The offer to beat the shit out of him still stands." Blaine says. His voice is hard.

Kurt hasn't told Blaine what the nightmares are about, but Blaine isn't stupid. He sees Karofsky following them around Lima. But Kurt won't let him tell Karofsky to back off. Blaine hates it, but he thinks that Kurt needs a little control. So if he can give Kurt this, he will. But he doesn't want Karofsky near them.

"No."

"We need to tell your dad."

"No!"

"Dammit, Kurt!" Blaine sounds angry. "You can't live like this! It's not fair to you!" Silence. "Please, Kurt. Please."

"No." Kurt shakes his head. "I can't." Blaine is quiet for a long time. He slips out of the bed a few hours later. Kurt hears the front door slam and rolls on his back with a sigh.

Fuck.

* * *

><p>On Christmas morning, Kurt opens the front door after a minute of incessant ringing.<p>

"I swear for the love of _Christ_ someone better be _dying_, you inconsiderate Neander—Blaine!" Kurt stares at his best friend in shock.

He has a truly spectacular black eye and dark bruises around his neck, but Blaine is _grinning_, like life couldn't be any better. Behind him stands a small woman with the same dark hair, but sad green eyes. Her cheek is discolored. She holds out a tray of cookies and Kurt remembers to take them. They look delicious, covered in holiday themed frosting and sprinkles.

Blaine hugs Kurt, bouncing up and down and nearly upsetting the cookies until his mother (she _has_ to be his mother, they looked like siblings) pulls him off and reminds him of his manners. "I tried to make him wait until a decent hour, but I'm sure you know Blaine," She smiles awkwardly at Kurt. "I'm Mary. Mary Anderson."

It was barely nine in the morning; Kurt is honestly surprised she got Blaine to wait that long. "I'm Kurt. Hummel." He shakes her hand in a daze. Then he remembers they're standing out in the cold and he hurriedly steps aside. "I'm so sorry, come in, you must be freezing," he says, trying to shoot Blaine a look.

Why the hell are the Anderson's at his door at nine am Christmas morning?

Finn pokes his head out of the kitchen. "Oh hey, Blaine, we're eating pancakes! You hungry?" he calls out. Somehow, the sight of Blaine doesn't even faze him.

"_Fuck_ yes, Carole makes the best pancakes!" Blaine strips off his coat and takes his mother's, hanging them in the hallway closet without a second thought. He runs into the kitchen, leaving Mary and Kurt alone.

_Well this is awkward._ Kurt just looks at the woman in front of him as she shifts comfortably. From the kitchen, he hears Carole's surprised squeal and Burt's unimpressed grunt. "Um. Welcome to the Hummel-Hudson's?" Kurt tries to smile. "The kitchen is just, um. Where Blaine went." He gestures with his elbow as best he could.

"Thank you," Mary forces a smile and follows her son's footsteps, Kurt close behind.

Blaine had better have a damn good explanation for why he and _his mother_ showed up unannounced like this.

The kitchen is a bustle of activity. Finn and Blaine are already devouring a stack of pancakes at the table while Burt nurses a coffee at the island. Carole flips more pancakes while admonishing the boys to _slow down, for heaven's sake, before you both choke!_ It's so normal, Kurt wants to scream. He leaves Mary in the entryway and slips around her to put the cookies down. Burt shoots him a look, but Kurt just shrugs. Luckily, Carole notices the woman and her expression softens.

"Do you want some coffee, honey? There's still some in the pot," she says kindly as she finishes the pancakes. "Have a seat, sweetie, you look exhausted."

Mary did look tired, and Blaine is out of his seat and helping her sit down before she could move. Carole places a mug in front of her, followed by sugar and creamer. Mary stares at the mug, and then Kurt recognizes her expression.

Shock.

Exhaustion.

Relief.

It's how he felt after he beat Karofsky in the bathroom.

"Did you leave your husband, Mrs. Anderson?" Kurt asks quietly. The room falls silent.

She nods, slow and jerky. "I came home early from work last night. To be with my family." She sips from the mug with shaky fingers as Blaine rubs her back. Just like he does for Kurt. "And. I saw him." Her eyes slide to Blaine and begin to water. "Robert lied to me. He swore he'd stop, but. He was beating my son."

"Dad," Kurt says quietly, putting a hand out to stop his dad from driving to the Anderson's and beating her husband. Burt clenches his teeth, but remains sitting. Finn's mouth is open, but Carole has a hand pressed tight to her own as the story comes out.

"He. He hit me when I tried to stop him. So I threw him out." Mary lets out a shaky laugh. "I threw him out again, but we—we couldn't stay there, but I had nowhere else to go." Her eyes find Carole. "It's _Christmas._ Where can we go?"

Blaine breaks in. "I'm sorry for barging in on your holiday." Kurt marvels at how, even with all those piercings and the ripped jeans, Blaine can look so _young_. "But—I just didn't have anyone else—it's the holidays, all the hotels are booked, and we're new here," Blaine rambles.

Kurt decides to put him out of his misery. "Blaine, stop. It's fine." He smiles at them. "We'd love to have you spend Christmas with us. You're family, too."

Blaine looks uncertain, but then Carole hugs him tight and practically force-feeds him more pancakes, and Blaine is powerless against her cooking. Kurt's not completely sure Finn understands what happened, but he tries to talk to Mary and makes her laugh a few times, so the giant oaf is apparently good for something. And Blaine looks like the sun when Burt ruffles his hair on the way to the table and asks Blaine to _pass the milk, son_.

While his life may be in shambles, Kurt kind of loves his family.

Later that night, he and Blaine sit in front of the fire, wrapped in blankets. There's some Christmas movie on, but neither pay attention. Mary is sleeping in Kurt's room and he and Blaine are sharing the living room. The rest of the house went to sleep hours before.

The fire crackles and pops as Kurt watches the flames.

"What's your mom going to do?" Kurt breaks the silence.

Blaine shrugs. "We talked about it a little this morning. Before we came." He twists until he's on his side, facing Kurt. "She's going to meet with her lawyer on Monday. Get a divorce. Get a restraining order." Blaine's voice drops. "She's going to wait to see how cooperative he's going to be before deciding about pursuing assault charges."

Kurt whistles lowly. "Your father's in deep shit."

"No kidding," Blaine laughs. He quiets, searching Kurt's face. "I'm free." He says with wonder.

"Yeah." Kurt tries not to be jealous. It doesn't work very well.

"You still won't tell anyone about the jock, will you?" The resignation in Blaine's voice puts Kurt on edge.

"No." He whispers.

"God, you Hummels are stubborn." Blaine grumbles. "Fine. I let you slack off over break, but tomorrow, we resume training."

Kurt frowns. "Boxing?"

"Boxing." Blaine grins. "Best of all, we won't have to go out in public. I have a heavy bag and a treadmill in my basement we can use, now that the bastard is gone." He cackles. "I'm gonna run you ragged, Hummel."

Groaning at the thought of how much he's going to sweat, Kurt buries his head in his pillow. But laughs. He peaks over his arm to see Blaine looking at him fondly.

_Just a friend, just a friend, just a friend…_

"I'm glad you came here for Christmas," Kurt says. He means it. It was his first Christmas with more than just his father in years, and it was more fun than he ever could have imagined. Blaine didn't seem to mind the lack of presents; he got enough fun playing with Kurt's until Kurt threatened to strangle him with his new designer scarves if Blaine couldn't keep the cookie crumbs away from his wardrobe. Even Mary lightened up when Finn nearly knocked the tree over after jumping to his feet when he unwrapped the new Call of Duty Xbox game. There's something about a tall sixteen-year-old covered in tinsel that makes parents howl with laughter. And his dad looked so happy to have Carole by his side; Kurt could push away the thoughts of his mother missing for just a few hours.

Blaine held him when he broke down later and confessed his fears of forgetting her and her traditions. Then they made the peppermint hot chocolate she loved, just the way Kurt remembered, which set Kurt off _again_, and well.

Kurt was just really happy to have Blaine with him.

In the firelight, Blaine lightly smacks Kurt's shoulder before grabbing his hand. "This was my favorite Christmas so far." He says with a soft smile. They lay for a few more minutes. Then—

"Wanna go steal the last few cookies before Finn does?"

"_Fuck_, yes, Hummel, knew I liked you for a reason!"

They giggle as they sneak into the darkened kitchen and share the remaining sugar cookies.

Finn will be pissed in the morning, but.

It's Christmas. And they're still here.

* * *

><p><strong>AN-**

**This kind of came out of nowhere last when (surprise surprise) I couldn't sleep. I hope it's acceptable! **

**As always, thanks for all the reviews/favs/alerts, you are all awesome and fantastic. I appreciate every one, thank you! Also I did go back and fix some grammar and tense errors in the previous chapters if that was bothering anyone. Yay!**

**I promise I am working on my other story. I promise!**

**Glee finale tonight =[ Yeah. My expectations are so ridiculously low it's kind of sad. Basically my one requirement is Klaine doesn't break up. That's really it. Depressing, huh? Also I'd enjoy if someone bitchslapped Rachel, but that'll never happen. (Update- wow, Glee managed to miss my expectations by a fucking lightyear. what.)**


	8. Chapter 8

School starts up again.

Karofsky still stalks Kurt in the halls, but he stays away for some reason. Kurt's pretty sure Blaine put the fear of God in him at some point even though he told Blaine to leave it alone. But he hasn't been touched, so Kurt can't be too mad. He tries not to think about the jock.

Blaine and his mother start going to the police station and documenting their injuries. They give statements and get interviewed for hours. Blaine lets Kurt take him to the police station because after he talks to the officers, he's often too drained to do much more than pass out on Kurt's shoulder.

Mr. Anderson serves divorce papers. Then, in a move no one expects, he begins to fight for custody of Blaine.

The night he finds out, Blaine drives to Kurt's house and refuses to leave for two days.

"He's doing it to hurt her," Blaine tells Kurt through gritted teeth. "He doesn't give a shit about me, but he can't deal with her standing up for herself. So he's going to try to break her by taking me." Kurt can't do much but let Blaine stay the night.

But because Blaine has a juvenile record (_I stole a shirt, Kurt, and it was the stupidest thing I've ever done)_, and they can't prove that his bruises came from his father and not from a fight with strangers, the child abuse charges may not stick. And Mary refuses to testify in front of her husband. Blaine had to beg her for the restraining order, and he's not sure she can handle much more. Mr. Anderson's hired attorney looks like a pit bull, short and mean and cocky. Kurt glares at him every time he walks by.

The legal process makes Blaine nervous and angry, and Kurt walks in on him punching the hell out of his punching bag on numerous occasions. But they just have to wait and let the court sort it out.

He hopes the court doesn't let Mary and Blaine down.

* * *

><p>Kurt convinces him to start going to New Directions practices. Sure they went to Sectionals and somehow managed a win, but more often than not Blaine pulls Kurt to his car and they work on Kurt's boxing form in Blaine's basement. But Kurt misses singing, and Mercedes has been dropping unsubtle hints about how much she misses him there. Weeks pass.<p>

Rachel invites Kurt and Mercedes over for a girls' night, and Kurt almost doesn't go. But Blaine rolls his eyes and shoves him out the door.

"You miss your friends," Blaine says with a smile. "Also, I'll do anything for you, but I draw the line at watching Twilight. You should go drool over Taylor Lautner with Aretha and Barbara and I'll spend some time with my mom." Blaine fiddles with the zipper on his leather coat. "I think I should start talking to her more." He admits quietly.

Kurt smiles and hugs Blaine. He wants Blaine to be happy again, like when they first met. Before Mr. Anderson came back and betrayed him and his mother. Mary Anderson is a sweet woman, but she needs to be reminded how to stand on her own again. And Blaine is good for her.

So Friday night, instead of waiting for Blaine to show up with a movie and popcorn, Kurt goes to Rachel's.

"Kurt!" Rachel flings her arms around him and yanks him inside. Kurt takes a moment to wince at her blindingly pink pajamas before hugging her back. "I missed you," Rachel grins widely. "Come one, Mercedes is already here, so get changed and we'll do our facials!" Mercedes waves at him from the staircase.

Kurt _really_ missed his girls.

They giggle their way through the night, watch _New Moon_ and get into a fight over Edward and Jacob (which Rachel totally lost because Edward is fucking creepy; who stares at other people while they sleep all night? Also _Taylor Lautner_, come on.) Mercedes joins Kurt's side because she is flawless.

When the lights get turned off, Kurt finds himself in the middle of the girls on Rachel's huge bed.

"So, what's going on with Blaine?" Rachel whispers in the dark. Kurt can hear her grin.

"Yeah, are you guys together or what?" Mercedes pokes Kurt's side. Kurt groans and covers his face, but doesn't answer. "You know, we'd be happy for you, right?" Mercedes says quietly. "I know how we were a few months ago, but he's pretty chill. And you're happier now."

Kurt lowers his hands and looks at Mercedes.

"Everyone can tell. You smile more." She raises an eyebrow. Rachel nods, grinning.

"I like him," Kurt admits, unable to keep a smile off his face. It's the first time he's admitted it out loud. "I _really_ like him. But…" Kurt smiles sadly. "He's just a friend. He isn't interested."

"Have you told him?" Rachel squeals, ignoring the rest of Kurt's admission. "You have to tell him, and then you can pen an amazing song about love at first sight and how love beats all odds and—"

"Girl, shut up!" Mercedes snaps. "She's right, though, you should tell him. He seems to like you a lot."

Kurt shakes his head. "No, Blaine's dealing with a lot right now. He doesn't need me adding to it." Kurt knew for a fact that Mr. Anderson had violated the restraining order the night before and scream at Blaine's door for an hour before giving up. Blaine had to comfort his mother the rest of the night. He didn't need a boyfriend now. "And besides, he's not into me." Kurt thinks about all the nights Blaine spends in his bed and curled up around him. All the texts and the calls and the touches. He lets himself think about what it would be like if Blaine was his boyfriend. It doesn't seem like it would change too much. Just kissing. And maybe sex. Kurt blushes.

Mercedes frowns and shoves his shoulder. "Don't give up, Kurt. You deserve happiness too, you realize that?" She glares at him, though the power is lost in the darkness. Rachel squeezes him arm.

He doesn't; he really doesn't; don't they get that?

But it's really nice to be with his girls.

"I missed you guys," Kurt chooses to say, smiling as they hug him. The girls drift off to sleep soon after, but Kurt lies awake.

Maybe one day Blaine will love him. Kurt feels himself start to hope. He should stop, he should squash that tiny flame before it grows any larger because he's only going to get hurt, but.

It feels really good to hope again.

* * *

><p>Blaine and Kurt sit in the back of the choir room as Rachel belts out another song about second chances and new beginnings, all the while looking at Finn significantly. Quinn glares at her, and the rest of the club either shifts uncomfortably or ignores her. Mr. Schue is oblivious as always.<p>

"I know you've explained the incestuous relationships in this club," Blaine whispers to Kurt, "but I thought Finn was solo for now?"

"He is," Kurt rolls his eyes at Rachel. "I swear to you, these two need a break from each other. A real break. She was pissed at him because he lied about sleeping with Santana last year when they were broken up, so she made out with Puck, and then he found out and broke up with her. Now she's trying to get him back." He grits his teeth as Rachel finishes the solo with tears in her eyes. Finn just looks embarrassed. "God, Rachel, back off." Kurt mutters. Finn can be such a moron sometimes, but he is firmly on Finn's side this time. Rachel completely overreacted, and cheating is sore spot for Finn. She knows that.

Blaine rolls his eyes and drapes an arm around the back of Kurt's chair. "I'm glad we don't have that kind of drama," He watches Rachel shoot longing looks at Finn.

"This club is insane. You know Santana and Sam are together now? Sam found out about Quinn kissing Finn and broke up with her. Artie and Britt are together, but who knows how long that's going to last with Santana breathing down their necks. The only sane couple here is Mike and Tina. Puck and Lauren aren't even actually together." Kurt rants under his breath.

"Everyone here needs to get drunk and laid." Blaine says grumpily. Unfortunately, Santana hears him, and Kurt doesn't like that look on her face. She winks at them as Mr. Schue rambles on about Regionals in a few weeks.

Kurt feels sick.

This cannot end well.

* * *

><p>The Rachel Berry House Party Trainwreck Extravaganza is a nightmare from hell, Kurt decides.<p>

It starts off tame. Rachel wears a horrible pale green monstrosity that Kurt has to actually restrain himself from destroying. He asks Blaine if it would be unethical to spill a wine cooler on her so she'd be forced to change. Blaine laughs.

It's awkward, being in a basement with the New Directions while half of them hate the other half. Tensions are high, and glares are frequent, and Kurt seriously considers just stealing a bottle of vodka and getting drunk with Blaine in his house.

He wouldn't mind hanging out with just Blaine, instead of these friends that barely look at him.

Kurt has never felt so alone.

Then Puck convinces Rachel to let him and Blaine break into her dads' liquor cabinet. And all hell breaks loose.

Blaine is terrible at holding his liquor, Kurt finds. It adds to his theory about that stupid "badboy" thing being an act, because Kurt is pretty sure Blaine has never gotten drunk before. After a few mixed drinks, Blaine is wasted and hanging all over Kurt, rambling about how _tall_ Finn is and how cool it is that they're brothers. Mercedes and Tina giggle into their red cups while Sam and Mike compare abs. Puck stares at Lauren's boobs and Brittany begins stripping while Artie waves cash at her. Quinn and Santana cry in the corner and Rachel drapes herself over Finn. Kurt and Finn are the designated drivers, and so the only sober ones. Unfortunately.

He hears Finn explaining the types of drunks to Rachel as he guides Blaine to a couch. Blaine giggles when he trips and nearly knocks Kurt over. Gritting his teeth, Kurt yanks Blaine to a standing position and shoves him into the pillows. Stupid Blaine.

How can he still be attractive when he's slurring all his words and his cheeks are bright red and his hair sticks up in crazy curls? Kurt sighs and sits next to Blaine.

"You're so nice to me," Blaine smiles sloppily at Kurt. He rubs his cheek on Kurt's shoulder. "You're so…_soft_!" He starts giggling again. It's kind of adorable, actually, until he starts drooling.

"WHO WANTS TO PLAY 'SPIN THE BOTTLE'?" Rachel suddenly shrieks.

Blaine perks up and pulls Kurt over.

This _cannot_ be good.

* * *

><p>The first few kisses are boring, but Kurt begins to relax. He really does <em>like<em> his friends, even if most of them make him want to claw his eyes out. But it is funny when Puck gets to kiss Lauren and looks like the world has given him the best gift ever. And when Santana gets possessive over Sam kissing Quinn, well, he has to laugh.

Then Rachel lands on Blaine.

Kurt forces a laugh because Blaine is, well, _gay_, so he really has nothing to worry about. But then Rachel, with a weird look in her eye, promises to rock his world and then they are crossing the line from _kissing _to full on _making out_ and Kurt feels his heart shatter as his two best friends kiss in front of him.

Santana wolf whistles and Finn looks pissed, but Kurt can't move. Finally Rachel pulls off and stares at Blaine.

"Your face tastes _awesome_," She says wonderingly. Blaine just grins. "I found my new duet partner!" Rachel suddenly screams and drags Blaine over to the mini stage. She shoves a bedazzled microphone in his hand and an 80s beat begins blaring. Somehow, even drunk off their asses, they sound great. Perfect even.

He recognizes those looks Rachel keeps sending Blaine. Those are her flirting looks; god knows he had to see them every single fucking day in school while she pined over Finn. But now they were directed at Blaine and Kurt tries not to want to murder her because _Blaine is MINE, Rachel, stop!_

But Blaine sends her sexy faces as he sings out _Don't you want me, baby?_ And Kurt's not sure how much of that is the song and how much is Blaine.

Kurt hates them.

Mercedes catches Kurt's eye and shakes her head at Rachel, but then she becomes engrossed in her drink. So Kurt sits on the couch and watches Blaine and Rachel make out on the floor while Santana croons a lovesong to Brittany and Finn shoots daggers at Blaine.

It's a long night.

Blaine is too drunk to go home, so Kurt takes him to his house. He swears Finn to secrecy and bodily drags Blaine up the stairs, trying not to think about how long Blaine spent sucking on Rachel Berry's face or how Blaine actually seemed to enjoy it. He'll wind up screaming or crying if he does, and Kurt is so finished with everything right now.

Sometimes, Kurt hates his heart.

He shouldn't have gotten his hopes up. He still thinks Blaine is gay, because they've had long discussions about Leonardo DiCaprio and Hugh Jackman and their asses, but apparently even Rachel Berry is more attractive to Blaine than Kurt. Fucking typical. Why shouldn't it happen again?

Blaine hangs onto Kurt and nuzzles Kurt's neck. "You smell, like, really _good,"_ Blaine slurs, smiling. "An',an', you're taking care of me. Sers'ly, Kurt, you're like, the nicest guy _ever_." Blaine grins at Kurt, but Kurt just winces at Blaine's alcoholic breath and throws him into his room. Blaine falls on Kurt's bed and snuggles into a pillow, moaning happily. "Smells like you," Blaine murmurs. He's a drunk five-year-old, Kurt decides.

Kurt sighs, and begins undoing Blaine's shoes. Blaine has no idea how much Kurt loves him, because _no one_ else would ever be allowed to wear their alcohol-smelling clothes in Kurt's bed. Blaine smiles at Kurt when Kurt gets his shoes off. Then he turns green.

"Oh god," Kurt mutters, yanking Blaine into the bathroom just in time for Blaine to throw up in the toilet. He retches a couple times, whimpering, and Kurt can't bring himself to stay angry at Blaine when he looks so _miserable_. Kurt wets a washcloth and wipes Blaine's sweaty brow, not even minding when Blaine hugs Kurt's middle and cries.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Blaine whispers into Kurt's shirt. "I'm such an ass, I'm sorry."

"It's fine, Blaine," Kurt says tiredly. The bathroom tiles are cold, but he stays on the floor with Blaine. It's too late for Kurt to care about what happened at the party. And honestly, Kurt's used to this feeling. The universe doesn't like it when Kurt is happy.

"It's not, it's not," Blaine looks so upset. "I kissed Rachel." He whispers.

Kurt sighs. He _really _doesn't want to think about that while Blaine's head is halfway down a toilet and Rachel is too far away for Kurt to slap, but Blaine just looks so sad, and Kurt is so hurt. "You did a little more than kiss." Kurt say.

"I know," Blaine nods sadly. He sounds more sober now. "I just—I though' maybe I could like girls," Blaine whispers, as if he's telling Kurt a really dirty secret. "Dad said he wouldn't've hit Mom if I was normal." His voice sounds so small and so defeated that Kurt knows he'll never be mad at Blaine for this. "He wouldn't've needed t' hit me. An' it's my fault my family's getting torn apart, all my fault, and he hates me, and Mom hates me, and now _you _hate me, and—"

Kurt tugs Blaine closer and holds him. They'll talk about this in the morning.

Blaine throws up a few more times, and Kurt cards his fingers through Blaine's curls and gives him sips of water to wash out the taste.

Blaine is too exhausted to protest when Kurt makes Blaine lie down in the bed. He paces a trashcan on the floor near Blaine's head and threatens Blaine with bodily harm if he misses. Blaine nods nervously, looking like a shamed little boy. Kurt quickly changes and brushes his teeth. He slides in next to Blaine, listening to Blaine's even breaths. Blaine wakes up and turns over, latching onto Kurt like an octopus. He hides his face in Kurt's chest and winds his arms around Kurt's body and Kurt really can't move.

Not that he really wants to. Falling asleep with Blaine is the best feeling in the world. Even when Blaine's so drunk he can barely move.

Kurt will be angry in the morning. At Blaine's father and maybe a little at Blaine and definitely at Rachel. But for now, he's emotionally drained and tired and his heart just hurts.

Maybe the morning will be better.

But Kurt's not stupid enough to really believe it.

* * *

><p><strong>AN-**

**Hey guys! I'm really sorry about this chapter. I know it's pretty depressing and a little all over the place, but I promise everything has a point. Kurt's happy ending has a little ways to go.**

**I also put this on Scarvesandcoffee, if anyone wants to read this over there. The penname (mmmkiwis) is the same! I also made a new tumblr dedicated just to my writing, so that's at center-of-the-storm (dot) tumblr (dot) com, so please check it out for updates, rants on writing, and any questions! Thank you!**

**Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this update, and I'll start working on the next! Thank you for all the reviews and favorites and alerts, you all are so amazing!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Warnings: suicidal thoughts, depression**

* * *

><p>Morning comes in reds and yellows as the sun rises and shines softly into Kurt's room.<p>

Somehow, Blaine has managed to completely wind himself around Kurt. He smells like alcohol and sweat, but there's the faint _Blaine_ scent, so Kurt lets himself breathe it all in. This might be last time he does, after all.

It's just hurts so much around him now.

Kurt's arms fall asleep, so Kurt inches his way out of Blaine's grip. In his sleep, Blaine whimpers, but Kurt gives him his pillow and Blaine smiles as he cuddles it. Kurt sees Blaine breathe deeply and sigh at the smell.

Puppy. Kurt smiles sadly and strokes Blaine's soft curls. A vision of Blaine wrapped up in Rachel with his tongue down her throat flashes across Kurt's eyes and Kurt fights down a surge of anger and nausea.

He can't deal with that yet.

Blaine wakes up later and shuffles into the kitchen, looking very much like a shamed puppy. Kurt wordlessly holds out a glass of water and Motrin. Blaine takes them, gratefully and nervously. Bacon is frying in the pan on the stove and Kurt busies himself with making breakfast while Blaine awkwardly sits at the island.

Neither speaks. Kurt makes up a plate of bacon, sausage, and eggs and puts it in front of Blaine along with a cup of coffee. Then he leans against the counter, taking small bites of his toast.

"Thanks," Blaine says softly. He takes a few bites. Kurt can see Blaine glancing at him every few seconds, but stays silent. The toast tastes like ash.

He has no right be angry at Blaine. Blaine has every right to kiss anyone he pleases, guy or girl. Kurt won't stop him.

But it doesn't help that every time he looks at Blaine, his heart cracks again.

Blaine doesn't want him. No one does.

Kurt eats his toast.

Finally, Blaine's plate is clear. He looks ready to cry, but he lets Kurt take his plate to the sink. Kurt scrubs it with more force than necessary, pretending it's Rachel fucking Berry's face under the sponge. Bitch.

_She_, Kurt can be mad at.

Because what kind of friend listens to her friend confess to liking a boy and then makes out with him for hours?

No, Kurt feels completely justified in hating Rachel.

Finn comes in, rubbing his face sleepily. He starts at the sight of Blaine meekly sitting at the island.

"The fuck are you still doing here?" he snaps, shooting Blaine an angry look.

"He's eating." Kurt says before Blaine can answer. "There's bacon and sausage on the stove. I can make you an omelet if you want." He scrubs the plate harder. Christ, why hasn't Blaine _left_ yet? Kurt just wants to run upstairs and cry into his covers.

Finn grunts but grabs a plate and begins piling food on. He sits next to Blaine. "So what's the deal with you and Rachel?" he asks bluntly.

Kurt doesn't turn around, though his shoulders tense. How much does Blaine even remember from last night? Does he remember spending half the night crying in Kurt's arms? Or does he only remember kissing Rachel and thinking that girls are awesome? He hears Blaine sigh.

"_Nothing_." Blaine says insistently. "Nothing, Christ, I'm _gay_, I was just having a really bad night and I get stupid when alcohol is involved. I don't like Rachel; she's all yours."

Finn shrugs and mumbles something about how he and Quinn have been seeing each other, so Rachel's free. Kurt rolls his eyes. God, their love triangle is frustrating. He wishes his stepbrother could see he could do so much better than either of those girls. "So is Kurt mad at you?" Finn stage whispers to Blaine. Kurt freezes.

"Yeah." Kurt feels Blaine's eyes on his back. "Kurt, come on, please look at me. I'm sorry."

Kurt realizes he's gripping the plate with enough force to crack it, so he forces his hands to relax. "There's nothing to be sorry about." Kurt says in clipped tones. He dries the plate and shoves it into the drying rack. "You can kiss whoever you want."

Blaine actually growls and Kurt wants to slap him. "Fuck, Hummel, why are you so mad at me? We aren't dating!"

Kurt finally looks at Blaine. He still wore his clothes from the party, and they are rumpled from sleeping in them. Blaine's curls stick up at odd angles. But his eyes are red-rimmed and Kurt was almost certain there are tears in them.

Which was completely fucking stupid; because if there was ever someone not worth crying over, it was Kurt Hummel.

"No, we aren't." Kurt whispers. Every word cuts deep and he crosses his arms. _Keep it together, Kurt._ Finn watches them with wide eyes, and the kitchen is silent until the doorbell rings. With one last look at Blaine, Kurt leaves to answer it.

Rachel Berry is on his doorstep, smiling brightly.

In the brightest pink cape he has ever seen. Kurt almost slams the door in her face, but forces himself to be polite and settles for just looking at her, _daring_ her to speak.

He has to be a masochist.

"Hi, Kurt! I know you took Blaine home last night, and I didn't have his number so I thought I'd stop over here to say hi!" She steps past Kurt and begins unbuttoning that hideous cape in his foyer. Kurt feels his heart start pounding because there is no way Rachel is actually in his house with Blaine and Finn in the next room. It's too early for this shit. A headache starts to pulse against his skull and Kurt slowly shuts the door.

"Rachel—"

But she's already walking to the kitchen, and Kurt can only follow. He hopes no one else notices how much he wants to murder her. She smiles brightly at Blaine's suddenly pale face and Finn's shocked expression.

"Good morning, Blaine! And Finn." She gives her ex-boyfriend a cursory glance before leaning on the island next to Blaine with a winning smile. "I came over to discuss with Kurt how we can get Mr. Schue to do more songs from musicals in Glee, but you are more than welcome to join us, Blaine!" Kurt shakes his head at Finn's quizzical look. _Be more obvious, Rachel. I dare you._

"Yes," Kurt drawls as he walks past. He starts putting the extra food away. "I mean Mr. Schue never lets you sing what you want. It's a travesty." He scoffs bitterly when Rachel agrees and begins talking Blaine's ear off. When Kurt finally turns around, he has to fight not to laugh.

Blaine has the most miserable expression Kurt has ever seen, and Rachel chatters on and on about possible musicals she could sing from. Finn has long since made his escape. Finally, Blaine snaps.

"Rachel, seriously, you sing enough in Glee already." He says impatiently. Rachel's eyes widen in shock, but Blaine keeps talking. "Can you like, go away, though? I have to talk to Kurt about something." Blaine shoots Kurt a desperate look, and while Kurt is still pissed, he'd never subject Blaine to a smitten Rachel Berry.

Kurt nods slightly. "You left some stuff in my room. We can talk up there." He gestures for Blaine to go up first. "Rachel, I'll be down in a couple minutes. There's some soy milk in the fridge and cereal in the pantry if you're hungry." He follows Blaine without another word.

Kurt's room is just as awkward as the kitchen. Kurt closes the door, thankful that his father had to leave for work early that morning. He turns around, arms crossed. Blaine rubs his face and collapses backwards on Kurt's bed groaning loudly.

"What the actual fuck." Blaine's words are muffled by his hands.

Kurt shrugs. "You made out with her for over an hour last night. She thinks you like her." He takes some perverse pleasure in the look of absolute horror on Blaine's face. "Honestly, Blaine, what did you expect?"

"I was _drunk_. I'm still _gay._" Blaine pouts. "Fuck." He grabs Kurt's pillow and hugs it. "Do you hate me?" Blaine finally asks in a small voice.

It breaks Kurt's heart a little more. "What happened to the 'badboy' that doesn't give a shit about what anyone else thinks?" Kurt teases gently, but he sits next to Blaine.

"He realized he cares what one person thinks." Blaine watches him carefully.

What the hell can Kurt say to that? And he has forgiven Blaine, he really has. "I'm not mad at you." Kurt finally says. Blaine starts to smile. "But." Blaine freezes. "I'm still…upset. Can—Can you just give me some time?" Kurt's throat closes up.

"Yeah. Yeah, of course." Blaine smiles and grabs Kurt's hand. "But we're ok?"

"We're ok."

"Good." Blaine stands up. "Where the hell is my phone? Mom must be freaking out…"

Kurt fishes it out of his pocket. "I called her earlier. She knows you spent the night. But I think you should spend the day with her."

Blaine nods. "Thanks." At the door, he pauses. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah." Kurt forces his face into a smile. "See you tomorrow." He keeps it up until Blaine leaves. Then sighs.

Time for a day of dealing with Rachel Berry and trying not to kill her for flirting with Blaine in front of his face.

* * *

><p>When Kurt walks into school the next morning, he considers walking out again.<p>

Blaine is waiting at his locker, like always, but _Rachel_ is there too. Then Kurt squares his shoulders. If he won't be chased out of school by a closeted homophobic jock, then a kitten-sweater wearing loudmouth will not scare him either. He forces his legs to walk forward.

Rachel is lecturing Blaine about the differences in Elphaba in the musical and the book, and Blaine clearly does not give a shit. His face floods with relief at the sight of Kurt. "Hey, Kurt!"

As horrible and childish as it is, Kurt dances inwardly at the glare Rachel sends him before masking it with a grin. _You won't get him, Rachel. Not this time._ "Kurt! Hi!" She shifts awkwardly, glancing at Blaine then back to Kurt. "W-what are you doing here?"

"This is my locker." Kurt raises an eyebrow and points at the locker she's leaning on. She blushes and moves so Kurt can open it. "Hey, Blaine."

"I brought you coffee, but she kind of took it." Blaine glares at Rachel, but she pretends not to notice. There's an empty coffee cup from The Lima Bean in her hands. The top of a _K_ is visible just over her fingers.

"Coffee isn't good for your vocal cords anyway." Rachel says flippantly.

"But you drank it." Blaine deadpans. Kurt snorts.

Rachel sputters, flushed. "A-anyway! I have a song I want to sing today in Glee, and I need a duet partner, but Finn's voice isn't right for it, and we clearly have amazing chemistry as evidenced on Saturday night, so here's the music!" She hands Blaine a sheet of music. "You will sing Bryan Adams's part as I was born to sing Barbra." Rachel grins widely. "See you later, Blaine!" She turns on her heel and walks off down the hall, shoes clacking on the linoleum.

Blaine watches her go with a strange expression. "She's certifiable." He says grumpily, scanning the music. Kurt just shrugs. He switches his books around, taking out history and English. "Oh my god, Kurt, look at this song! '_I finally found someone/that makes me feel complete._'" Blaine looks at Kurt, stricken. "We aren't together!"

"Might want to tell her that." Kurt says lightly. He closes his locker with a sigh. "Look, you just have to be very clear with her. And do it soon, because I swear I'm going to strangle her if she sings Barbra one more time." He starts off for his first class, leaving Blaine to think. Karofsky walks past the other way, and his hand darts out to stroke Kurt's leg, high on his thigh. Kurt yelps and jerks away, knocking into a girl. Through stuttering apologies, Kurt tries to find Karofsky, but he's gone.

Kurt wipes his face and tries to stop shaking. It's going to be a long day.

* * *

><p>Glee is hell.<p>

Blaine flat out refuses to sing with Rachel, but she takes it in stride and sings _I Finally Found Someone_ as a solo, but directs it to Blaine. The rest of the club either stares at her or _Kurt_, and Mercedes actually looks even angrier than Kurt. She was there the night of the slumber party and she knows exactly what Rachel's doing. Breaking the 'girl code,' or something. Kurt wants to melt into the floors and never show his face again. Blaine just looks uncomfortable and keeps shooting _Save me!_ looks at Kurt, which doesn't help. Only Quinn is any kind of pleased, probably because Rachel singing to Blaine means she's finally given up on Finn.

Rachel finishes with a flourish, grinning widely. She darts back to her seat next to Blaine as Mr. Schue starts talking about love songs. Kurt tries not to jump up and rip out her hair. She scoots her chair in closer to Blaine, winding an arm around his. Blaine is practically in Kurt's lap by the end of Mr. Schue's speech in an effort to get away from her when Kurt flips.

"Rachel! What the hell is wrong with you?" He rips himself away from Blaine and stands up, glaring at her. He has had enough and by God, everyone is going to hear about it. Rachel gapes at him, and Blaine takes the opportunity to move away from her. The room falls silent; even Mr. Schue seems reluctant to get between the club's two biggest divas. "Blaine is not interested in you! Stop making him uncomfortable!"

She flushes but stands up as well. Kurt savagely takes pleasure in the fact that he's taller. "Kurt, that is extremely rude. Blaine and I have a connection, and while we may not be dating, we can be friends. He's not only yours, you know." The words have a sharp bite to them. She ignores Mercedes soft _oh no she didn't._

"You sang a love song to him. Blaine is gay. He likes dick. Stop throwing yourself at him; you're only embarrassing yourself." Kurt says venomously. Blaine watches with wide eyes and Santana smirks, but Kurt can't stop himself. "Leave Blaine alone." Kurt growls.

Rachel is almost in tears. "Stop it, Kurt! Just because I found a potential boyfriend and a duet partner doesn't mean you get to mad at me!"

"Oh, _God_, Rachel," Blaine says softly, but his words get lost when Kurt sees red.

"He's not a _potential boyfriend_, you_ moron_, he's gay!" Kurt shouts. God, why doesn't she _get it_? Why does she feel the need to take everything from him? "He was really drunk and in a bad place at the time! I'm sorry Finn dumped, you, I am, but you brought this on yourself by making out with Puck! For once, you're not going to get what you want, so suck it the fuck up and deal with it!"

"Well, he's not into you, either!" Rachel screams. Her face is bright red and furious and embarrassed, and Kurt feels all the blood drain from his face, because he suddenly knows exactly where Rachel's going with this and he's _not ready_ for Blaine to know this. The rest of the Glee club and Mr. Schue stare at the warring friends with open mouths.

"Rachel, wait, let's talk about this somewhere private—"

"You've been hanging around Blaine for months and he's never made a move on you! Not once! At least I got to second base!" Rachel shakes with fury. "He kissed _me_, not _you_, so maybe you should just accept the fact that guys like me better!" Then her eyes widen and she claps a hand over her mouth, like she realizes what she's said. The room is so quiet that Kurt is pretty sure everyone can hear his heart pounding.

Kurt feels like he's been slapped. Like his stomach dropped fifteen feet. He's going to throw up if he doesn't get out, he can't think with the crushing feelings of hurt and betrayal squeezing him dry.

"K-Kurt, wait, I didn't mean it like that, I—" Rachel starts crying quietly. "I'm so sorry, Kurt, I'm sorry!"

"Yeah, I've been hearing that a lot lately." Kurt says hollowly. His eyes sting and he _will not_ cry in front of these people. He can't face Blaine, not after this. Without a word, Kurt leaves.

As he walks out the door, he hears Santana.

"That was a bitch move, Man-hands."

Typical of them to defend him after he walks away. Kurt holds himself together until he gets to his car.

* * *

><p>Lying on his bed, Kurt feels completely numb.<p>

It's so much better than the pain of the afternoon.

Fucking Rachel.

He's been so stupid. Blaine was always only going to be a friend. Maybe he should thank Rachel for breaking the news to him before he fell too deep.

There are three cracks on his ceiling.

His phone had been ringing nonstop until Kurt turned it off three hours ago. Finn tried to talk to him earlier, but Kurt ignored him. Blaine came too; and only left after Burt assured him that Kurt just needed some time. Though even Burt looked worried. Finally, blessed silence.

Kurt really likes silence.

What was he thinking? Why would Blaine ever like such shitty damaged goods like Kurt? Karofsky ruined him, Kurt knew this. No matter what Kurt did, no matter how long he hit a heavy bag, Karofsky could turn his knees to jelly with one look. Karofsky could whatever he wanted, and Kurt can't stop him. Kurt shivers when he remembers that touch on the inside of his leg. He couldn't stand up to that bully, couldn't talk to adults about the harassment, so why would Blaine want to be with someone so weak?

He is so tired.

And Rachel. Anything he wanted, she got. Finn. Defying Gravity. Kurt wonders if she knew he blew that note the year before. Every competition solo. Blaine. She's probably already worked out how to hook her harpy claws into him and keep him for herself.

She's right; guys don't like him. Finn practically ran screaming and even Sam left as soon as Kurt gave him and out from their duet. And somehow, Rachel Berry, a _girl_, was more attractive to Blaine than Kurt could ever be.

He can't believe she spilled his secret to the whole club. No, he can believe it. She gets torn down by everyone else; why shouldn't she tear down someone else? But why _him_. He can't see Blaine now. Can't look into his eyes.

Kurt thinks about the cracks in the ceiling. He's been falling through the cracks his whole life. Maybe he should just stop fighting it.

He closes his eyes and falls deep into the sweet embrace of sleep. He dreams of razors and oblivion. It's the best dream he's had in months.

* * *

><p>"I have a song I want to sing." Kurt announces at the next Glee practice.<p>

He ignores the sudden whispers; ignores everyone; as he has for the past full day. His phone is still turned off, thrown somewhere on his bed, and he hasn't spoken to anyone but his father since he woke up.

Blaine hasn't taken it well, pelting Kurt with notes every one of their shared classes and even following him to their rare separate ones. Rachel mostly cried the whole day. He knows Mercedes has given Rachel the cold shoulder all day along with Tina, and even Puck glared at the Jewish girl. She usually had a good amount of the club mad at her on any given day, but this time it looked universal. Kurt can't care anymore.

Over the summer, Kurt had his wisdom teeth taken out. He saved a few of the Vicodin pills, hiding the orange bottle in the back of his medicine cabinet. Pain was such a constant in his life that he didn't need all the prescribed doses. He took one that morning, then another at lunch, and the numbness is wonderful. The locker checks had barely registered. There's still half a bottle left, waiting in his night table. Next to the razor.

"Of course, Kurt," Mr. Schue smiles understandingly.

Kurt nods faintly before taking his place at the mike stand. He's already told Brad his song, and Brad waves as if to say _Whenever you're ready_.

Brad is kind of awesome.

In the front, Blaine watches him. Kurt almost falters at the sight of Blaine's intense hazel eyes, but fuck it, he's going to be brave for once in his shitty life. Kurt grips the microphone, the Vicodin coursing through his veins.

He opens his mouth.

"_Two to one,_  
><em>Static to the sound of you and I<br>Undone for the last time…"_

It's terrifying, baring himself before these people. His friends. Even as most of them have screwed him over in a million different ways. He wonders if any of them understand this song. He thinks Blaine might.

"_I can hear it, the jet engine  
>Through the center of the storm<br>And I'm thinking I'd  
>Prefer not to be rescued…"<em>

Kurt loses himself in the song. The swell of the notes, the sad tone of the lyrics.

"_I'm finally numb,  
>So please don't get me rescued.<em>"

He opens his eyes, looking at each of his friends.

"_And it's unclear  
>But this may be my last song<br>Oh, I, I can tell  
>She's raising hell to give to me<br>She's got me warm  
>So please don't get me rescued"<em>

Why do they look so guilty? This isn't their fault. This is all Kurt.

He's just so tired. But he's okay.

He knows what to do.

"_And I feel alright, so please  
>Don't get me rescued..."<em>

Kurt feels the last notes echo in the choir room. Brad lets them trail off into silence, and Kurt just stands there in front of everyone. Most are worried; a few are crying. Blaine frowns, and Kurt suddenly wants to run. He doesn't want Blaine to guess his thoughts.

He makes his voice work.

"Thanks."

Then he leaves.

It's for the best.

* * *

><p><strong>AN-**

**Song: _Rescued_ by Jack's Mannequin (which is fantastic just fyi)**

**Yeah, I finished this pretty quick. I just want to clarify a few things.**

**While I wrote Rachel as pretty bitchy in this chapter, I have a reason. See, she's just been dumped by her boyfriend, one of the few guys in school that don't hate her, and she's just very lonely. So when Blaine showed interest, Rachel latched on, because he's only known her for a little while and he didn't seem to hate her right away. As for why she flipped out on Kurt, Rachel (from what I can tell from canon, which is really difficult by the way) is very focused and driven and doesn't hold on to her emotions well. So when Kurt basically called her out for being clingy, she got really embarrassed and lashed out to Kurt the best way she knew how- words.**

**This is not saying that Kurt didn't overreact either. His self-esteem is basically non-existent and he's being sexually-harassed and intimidated daily, so when he might lose the one good thing in his life to Rachel, who in his mind has everything he's ever wanted, Kurt loses it. He's just not in a good place right now.**

**As for why everyone else is pissed at Rachel, Blaine and Kurt have been pretty obviously a package deal for a while and then Rachel comes along and is trying to tear them apart for her own happiness. Also it's a dick move to go after someone else's crush (although that might just be me).**

**Sorry for the long note, I just wanted everyone clear on this stuff because I'm not sure how much got across in this chapter seeing as we really only get Kurt's point of view.**

**And as always, thank for all for the favorites, alerts, and reviews, I love and appreciate each and every one of you!**

**Ps- I made a new tumblr JUST for my writing, so free to hit me up at center-of-the-storm (dot) tumblr (dot) com for updates, questions, or random drabbles! Thanks!**


	10. Chapter 10

Kurt is barely halfway to his car when someone comes running after him. Still doped up from the Vicodin, he can't even care who it is. He turns and gets a flash of curly black hair and a worn leather jacket.

_Shit._

Blaine jogs up next to Kurt and takes the keys from his hands without so much as a word. They walk to Kurt's car, Kurt climbing into the passenger seat. There was no point in fighting. He was so tired of fighting. Kurt watches out the window while Blaine drives to the Hummel's.

This wasn't expected.

Blaine wasn't supposed to care.

Kurt tries to read Blaine's expression in short glances. Slight frown, flushed cheeks, scared eyes. It's confusing. _He wasn't supposed to care_.

The car gets parked and Blaine nudges Kurt up to his room, shutting the door behind them. No one is home for at least a few hours. Burt and Carole are at work, and Finn's probably at Quinn's. Or Rachel's. Who the fuck knows. Kurt feels itchy, like his skin is too tight. He stands while Blaine sits on his bed. Facing Blaine, especially after singing that song; is terrifying. The Vicodin is wearing off, and Kurt can feel his emotions flooding back. Guilt, depression, frustration, pain. He scratches at his wrists, eyes darting to his night table. The pills and the razor are in there.

He should have done it last night.

He shouldn't have waited to say goodbye.

Blaine watches him evenly, follows his line of sight, then moves to open the drawer.

"Don't—"

Oh _fuck_, what has he done?

Silently, Blaine pulls out the pills and sets the container on the bed. The orange is bright and out of place in Kurt's cream colored room. He holds on to the razor. It's a blade from a box cutter, and Blaine turns it over and over in his hands. He doesn't look at Kurt and it _hurts._ Kurt wraps his arms around himself and sits and the foot of the bed. _I won't cry._

"So…Jack's Mannequin?" Blaine finally says. His tone is light. Kurt stares at him in surprise. He's found evidence that Kurt was considering taking his own life, and Blaine wants to talk about some stupid band?

Kurt blinks and looks down at his hands. They're pale. Blood would stand out against his skin. "I like Jack's. It's a good album." He says in a whisper. Is Blaine angry?

"_Everything In Transit_." Blaine nods approvingly. "I showed it to you."

Music was a huge part of Blaine, and he listened to everything. While his tastes gravitated to rock and pop more than Broadway or rap, Blaine made it a point to try any song. And when he found something he liked, he made Kurt listen too. _Because music is like love, Kurt,_ Blaine had said. _It shouldn't be bottled up and hidden away. It should be shared._

"You liked their lyrics. Andrew McMahon is a brilliant songwriter." The sharp edge flashes in Blaine's hands and he turns it. "Remember your favorite song?" His voice is barely above a whisper.

Of course he remembers. The lyrics fit his life so well.

"_Dark blue, dark blue,"_ Kurt sings softly. His voice cracks. "_Have you ever been alone in a crowded room?"_

Blaine nods to himself and stares at the blade for a long time. His breathing picks up and his expression changes. One hand fiddles with his earrings, the _chink-chink_ echoing in the room.

It scares Kurt because he can't read his best friend. His eyes prickle from tears and Kurt's throat starts to close up.

"Blaine—" Kurt starts tentatively, reaching out with one hand.

"Do you want to die?" Blaine asks harshly. He looks at Kurt with anger and Kurt stops. Hugs himself. In the months of their friendship, Blaine has never yelled at Kurt. Ever. This might change. Blaine sniffs and rubs his eyes with the back of his hand, letting out a small and broken _"Fuck_."

For the first time, Kurt starts to wonder what it would be like for Blaine if he died.

He wondered if Blaine would pick himself up and move on.

If Blaine would wind up in jail.

If he'd even graduate.

"I just—" Blaine shakes his head and looks up, squeezing his eyes shut. It hurts, seeing all the pain and fear in Blaine. Blaine chokes off a sob and drops the razor as he curls in on himself. He presses the heel of his hands to his eyes and obviously fights to not cry, but. But.

"Blaine." Kurt whispers. He lays a hand gently on Blaine's shaking shoulder and Blaine launches himself at Kurt. He drags Kurt to lay down and hugs Kurt tight, so tight, like Kurt will shatter if he lets go. He cries harder, and so strange and unnerving to see _Blaine Anderson_ in tears and doing his best to crawl inside Kurt and never leave.

Surprisingly, Kurt manages to keep his eyes dry. He holds Blaine for a while until he slowly calms down. Blaine keeps whispering into Kurt's shoulder, little phrases like _don't leave me, you're my best friend, I can't be alone again._ Over Blaine's head, Kurt can see the pill bottle and the razor lying on the comforter. It still looks like release. Kurt buries his face in Blaine's soft hair and fills himself with _Blaine_.

"I just keep seeing you in the bathroom," Blaine whispers hours later. The room is darkened, but there's just enough light to see each other's faces. He traces random patterns on Kurt's arm. "And I couldn't save you. There's so much blood." Sucking in a quick breath, Blaine squeezes Kurt's arm, like he wants to be sure Kurt won't leave. "So much blood, and you're gone, and I'm still here. Alone."

It's what Kurt wanted. Down some Vicodin, wait until he was numb, and then open his wrists in the bathtub. Three long slashes, then peace. But now…

"I don't want to die." Kurt says softly. Blaine looks up. "Or I don't know. Maybe I do." Kurt waves his hands. Silent, Blaine sits up and turns the bedside lamp on. The light is soft and yellow. Kurt leans against his headboard and wraps his arms around his knees. "It's just. Sometimes." Kurt tries to explain in halting sentences. "Sometimes, I just don't want to live." He whispers into his jeans.

Because sometimes it hurts so much to just wake up.

Kurt takes in a shaky breath. "God." He mutters. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm so fucked up."

"You aren't." Blaine says without hesitation. "But I wish you'd have told me." Kurt looks up to see Blaine sigh.

"You had other things to worry about."

Blaine laughed. Actually laughed. "I feel like we've had this conversation before."

Months ago, in the Anderson's house where Kurt was wiping the blood off Blaine's face after another beating from his father.

Unbidden, Kurt smiles and laughs. "Yeah, guess we have." He agrees.

The house is weirdly quiet. His parents should be home, but Carole probably convinced his father to leave the boys alone. Knowing Finn's ability to keep secrets, Kurt figures Burt probably knows about his weird song choice at Glee. That will be a conversation.

The razor is only a few feet from his hands. It's sharp. Kurt tested it the night before, and he barely had to press it against his skin before a thin line of blood beaded up. The silver edge is still mesmerizing. Blaine sees his gaze, and snatches it up, dumping it and the pills on Kurt's nightstand. Mortified at getting caught, Kurt stares at his knees.

"I'm not, like," Blaine huffs, frustrated with himself. "A shrink or anything, but…can you just…tell me why?" His eyes are wide and mix of fear and anger and concern.

"Why the…?" Kurt looks at the razor. Blaine nods. Kurt swallows. He really wasn't planning on explaining himself, but it actually…kind of helped. Blaine, for all his cigarettes and piercings and fuck-you attitude, was a good listener. It was a nice change. Kurt shrugs. "I don't know." _Liar. _"I mean." Kurt squeezes his eyes shut. And hand rubs his back and Kurt lets out a long exhale, trying to order his thoughts.

Blaine cut through the jumble. "How about one at a time."

Kurt looks up at the ceiling. At the cracks. "I'm just. Scared." The words are small.

"Of what?"

Arms thrown wide, Kurt scoffs. What _isn't_ he scared of? "Everything. Failure. Karofsky. Myself." _Razors. Pills. _"You." He whispers.

Blaine frowns. "Why me?"

How can Blaine honestly expect an answer? Kurt's not even sure why he's afraid of Blaine. Blaine makes him feel safe. _He'll break my heart. Again._

Instead of answering Kurt shrugs and looks away. Thinking about Blaine is confusing and makes Kurt nervous so he studies his room. He has a lot of stuff in this little room. It would take his dad ages to pack it all up. He thinks of Burt trying to box up Kurt's pictures. The little trinkets and bottles of moisturizers. The pain and anguish on his father face startle Kurt. _Could I really do that to Dad?_ Kurt knows the answer. "I don't think I would have gone through with it."

Blaine has to know he's deflecting, but he thankfully goes with it. "Why not?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Kurt laughs bitterly. A tear slips down his cheek and Kurt angrily wipes it away. _Christ_, he is fucking pathetic. "I'm the biggest fucking coward in McKinley."

"Oh Kurt." Blaine puts his hand on Kurt's knee and Dave Karofsky flashes in front of Kurt's face and Kurt screams. And almost kicks Blaine in the face.

He can't stop shaking—_why _can't he stop, it's only Blaine, _it's just Blaine._ "Oh shit—God, I'm so sorry, Blaine, I didn't mean to," and now he's _crying_, God, why the hell is Blaine still here? He should be with Rachel. At least when she burst into tears it was over pretty quick. He doesn't notice he whispers his thoughts.

"You're such an idiot sometimes, you know that Hummel?" Blaine growls and pulls Kurt's hands away from his face. "I'm here because I want to be here. Fuck Rachel. Fuck her and her big mouth." Kurt peeks at Blaine's pissed face. "Contrary to what you might think, I do actually like you." Blaine's hands hold his own, tight and firm.

Kurt couldn't have heard that right, so he drags his eyes up to meet Blaine's. "But…?"

Blaine breaks into a grin. "No 'buts,'" he says. Kurt has about three seconds to register that _oh my god Blaine Anderson _likes_ me_ before—"Well, for now, at least, because you have a really fine ass—ow!"

"Blaine, oh my god, shut up!" Kurt smacks him with a pillow again before dissolving into giggles.

"Rude." Blaine tries to glare. But he can't keep that dumb smile off his face and he pushes Kurt back flat. Blaine lays over top of him, crossing his arms on Kurt's chest and resting his chin there. "Hi," he whispers.

"Hi," Kurt whispers back. Blaine feels like he's _everywhere_, his weight pressing Kurt down into the bed. Any loss of control should send Kurt into a panic attack, but Blaine looks at Kurt with hearts in his eyes and Kurt's not scared.

"Can you talk to me about Karofsky?" Blaine asks, barely above a whisper. He plays with his earrings with one hand, though his chin remains resting on the other. When Kurt breaths, he can feel Blaine's heartbeat pressed against him. "Why did you jump about a foot and try to take my head off when I touched you?" There's no room for evasion in Blaine's tone and Kurt shivers, cold.

Karofsky is crossing the line from general harassment to actual terror, Kurt knows. Letting him continue is a recipe for disaster, but Kurt can't ask for help. It's not like Karofsky has actually done anything that can be proven, and Kurt's the one that broke _his_ nose, so it's very likely that any complaint will be turned back on Kurt. It's such a mess, and Kurt can't do a thing but take Karofsky's abuse. Who would ever believe the sad, depressed, flamboyantly gay boy over a football star jock?

But damn his mouth. "He, um. He felt my leg the other day." Kurt tells the ceiling. On his stomach, Blaine snarls, but keeps still. "Middle of the hallway. It was over so fast, and no one else saw. I just don't know what to do. Every time I look around, he's _there_, and I'm scared of being alone with him." _I have no idea what he wants to do to me, but whatever it is, it isn't good._ Kurt tries to nudge Blaine off, wanting to be as small as possible, but Blaine isn't having any of it.

"You'll never be alone with him." Blaine says harshly. He grabs Kurt's hands and holds them tight, like he needs Kurt to understand. "Never. And I'm getting Puck and we're going to have a few words for him." His face darkens.

"Blaine, no. You'll get caught, and both of you will be sent to juvie."

"Totally worth it."

Kurt blanches. "What—_no_, it's _not_ worth it; do you have a death wish?"

Blaine just eyes him with an unreadable expression. He can't actually be thinking of going to juvie for Kurt, can he?

"We need to talk to someone about this." Blaine says. "You can't keep hiding this, He's going to blow up one day and you're going to be the target, and I might not be able to help you."

Kurt looks away from Blaine. His gaze falls on the damn razor. It's on the nightstand, and so close. So inviting. Blaine tugs on his sleeve, and Kurt takes a breath and meets Blaine's eyes. He didn't know eyes could be so expressive. Or maybe it's just Blaine. But Kurt really likes the amount of adoration and love he sees in those hazel pools. It makes him feel wanted.

"I think you're the bravest fucking guy in the universe." Blaine sounds so confident. Like it might be true.

Kurt really wants it to be true.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"Because," Blaine lifts himself up and crawls forward until he hovers over Kurt. Kurt can't breathe, but his heart starts pounding and a small smile creeps over his lips. It seems to give Blaine permission to continue. "Because you're still here. You let me take you home. You showed me what you were going to do. And you're going to do the bravest thing in the world."

Kurt sucks in a breath. Blaine is close, _so close_, and his eyes are so filled with determination and love. He can't do anything but wait, and then Blaine's lips are on his and moving and he gasps into the kiss because it's so fucking fantastic. Blaine's fingers are in his hair and gripping and pulling and who knew Kurt Hummel had a hair pulling kink? But everything is wet and warm and Kurt has never felt so loved and special than when Blaine's kissing him.

The kiss is pretty chaste and over way too soon, but when Blaine pulls away, Kurt has to smile through his shock. Blaine looks dazed but happy, and he runs his hand through Kurt's hair again.

"You're going to live."

* * *

><p><strong>AN-**

**Song mentioned- Dark Blue by Jack's Mannequin**

**For the record, _Everything In Transit _is one of my favorite albums ever so I recommend everyone to check it out!**

**I hope this chapter was satisfying! I'm not sure how many more chapters there will be, but there's at least a couple. For some reason I got a ton of reviews and stuff from the last update, so I want to thank everyone for all their support for this story! I love reading all of your comments and hearing from you!**

**Once again, thanks so much for reading =]**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N- I kind of updated this on a whim. Hope you like it! **

**Warnings- talk of suicide, depression, Finn being a douche**

* * *

><p>Like Kurt thought, being Blaine's boyfriend isn't too different than being his friend.<p>

Except now when they walk through the halls, Blaine attaches himself to Kurt's hip and gives everyone this self-satisfied smirk because _Kurt Hummel is his, be jealous, fuckers._

Most people can't give less of a shit. Kurt Hummel is that weird gay kid, and Blaine is a stereotypical bad-boy that's going to end up dead or in jail in ten years. Kurt doesn't feel the need to correct the brain-dead troglodytes that go to his school because he doesn't need their validation anyway.

One person cares, though.

And he scares the hell out of Kurt.

When Kurt walks down the hallways with Blaine's arm hugging him to his side, he sees Karofsky's furious face. Thick fists clench tight at the sight of Blaine, and Karofsky's eyes promise something horrible.

Kurt just presses a little closer to Blaine and ignores it.

He feels like the proverbial ostrich hiding his head in the sand.

But talking to Karofsky will tip the scales and force _something_ to happen, and Kurt's just not ready to deal with that. So he pretends not to see the anger and jealousy on Karofsky's face.

He's still not talking to Rachel.

Kurt knows he should forgive her, or at least talk to her, but he's always had a problem with holding grudges and he sees no reason to stop now. She betrayed his trust in more ways than one, so she can sweat it out for a little while longer. Also, she might actually learn something after all this.

Yeah, and the sun rises in the west.

Kurt shuts his locker with a hard slam.

"Jesus, you got something against that poor door?" Blaine raises an eyebrow from where he leans against the wall. Kurt rolls his eyes and ignores him. But he doesn't protest when Blaine slides his arms around Kurt's middle and rests his chin over Kurt's shoulder. "Seriously though, you ok, babe?"

Stupid nicknames should not have such an effect on him, but Kurt feels a flood of warmth anyway. "Yeah, I'm fine," he says, smiling at Blaine. Rachel walks bye with a hesitant wave, and Kurt turns away.

"You're going to have to talk to her eventually, you know." Blaine watches her face crumble. "You know that no one's talking to her but Finn? And that might not even last because Quinn's starting to edge into her 'scary' mode."

Kurt turns on his heel and stalks off to AP history. He really loves Blaine, he does; but sometimes Kurt wants to take that stupid cigarette-smoking moron and beat him upside the head with his damn leather boots.

"Kurt, come on. You're angry, yeah, but it worked out, right?" Blaine tries to slide his hand into Kurt's, but Kurt brushes him off. "This is getting ridiculous."

"I'm going to be as angry as I want for as long as I want." Kurt hisses. "Leave me alone." He leaves Blaine in the hallway.

He doesn't see Karofsky listening around the corner.

* * *

><p>Rachel corners him after Glee. She's been off all week; her pitch variable and her solos rocky. So much so that even Mr. Schue was giving him weird looks. Regionals is in a few weeks, and they supposedly need Rachel on point to win. Not that there weren't twelve other members perfectly capable of carrying a tune.<p>

"Kurt, can I please talk to you?" She wrings her hands, eyes huge and brown and wet. Kurt just wants to burn her stupid dress. It's lime green with tiny baseballs on it.

"No." Kurt finishes packing up and starts for the door where Blaine waits. All he wants is to go back to his house and cuddle with Blaine and maybe make out for a while. He's getting better at kissing and there's a spot just under Blaine's chin that turns his boyfriend into a whimpering mess that warrants further exploration.

But Rachel is apparently a bigger idiot than Kurt anticipates. "Kurt, please, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to say those things about you and Blaine, I—" She cuts herself off with a sob. "I just…I miss my best friend." Rachel finishes in a whisper, looking down at her shoes.

He should forgive her. Just a few words and he'd have his musical-loving best friend back.

Then he remembers the look on her face when she told the entire club about his unrequited crush on Blaine and how boys would never like him more than her.

"You have thought about that before you tore me down publically to make yourself look better." Kurt gives her a significant look before walking over to his boyfriend. Blaine opens his mouth to say something but closes it at Kurt's expression. Instead he winds his arm around Kurt's waist and gives him a light peck.

After finding the razor and pills, Blaine seems pretty determined to make sure Kurt knows he's loved by at least one person. Even if that person is equally fucked up. But Kurt really doesn't mind.

"Movie date on your couch?" Blaine asks. "I vote for _Wrong Turn_."

"That's a horror movie, isn't it?" Kurt snorts as they walk down the hallway. "You just want an excuse to hold me and maybe cop a feel."

Blaine bursts out laughing. "Like you wouldn't enjoy it anyway," he says with a wink.

Their banter is cut short when they get to Kurt's car and Finn is waiting against the door.

"What do you want?" Kurt snaps, unwinding himself from Blaine's arms. He saw that look of apprehension on Finn's face. It's one thing to know your step-brother is gay, but another thing entirely to see him act on it. And Finn, even though he's grown since last year, evidently still has some issues with Kurt dating.

Finn colors and avoids Kurt's eyes. "Um, Rachel wanted me to talk to you."

Good _fucking_ Lord. Kurt narrows his eyes and ignores Blaine's comforting back rub. "About?" he says, voice icy.

"She, um," Finn glances at Blaine, then Kurt. "She's like, really sorry and stuff. And I think you've dragged this on long enough." He finishes, a little bolder.

Kurt feels cold. "I've dragged it on enough, have I?" He wonders if Finn knows how close to death he is. Judging by Blaine's warning glances, Blaine certainly knows what Kurt's tone is implying.

"Yeah, man." Finn waves his arms. "Like, Regionals is in a couple weeks and Rachel's still upset over what went down between you two and she's having trouble singing. And she's apologized a lot and really means it, so you should forgive her already. As co-captain of New Directions, it's my responsibility that everyone performs to the best of their ability for every competition."

"And Rachel can't if I'm still pissed at her."

"Exactly!" Finn grins, clearly missing Kurt's effort to not destroy the big lump in two seconds. "We need to win so we can go to Nationals, and if we go to Nationals, then the club won't be so hated and we can get slushied even less!"

Some days, Kurt wonders how Finn made it to seventeen.

"Okay. I'm going to explain something, so you better listen up. This goes for you too, Blaine." Kurt begins. He bites back a laugh at how Blaine's eyes go wide at being singled out. "What's going on between me and Rachel is just that. Between me and Rachel. I am still angry at her, and I will be for a while. You can't make me forgive her any faster. I will hate her guts for a while and quite frankly Finn?" Kurt takes a deep breath. "I don't give a flying fuck about Regionals. Rachel is not the only singer in the club, and maybe you and Schuester should remember that once in a while. I'm done talking about this." Kurt rips the car door open and is about to climb inside when Finn ruins everything.

"I think you're being really selfish right now Kurt."

Somehow, Kurt manages to avoid a murder charge. He needs to punch something. So instead of killing his idiot brother, Kurt throws his keys at Finn's head and runs back to the school. The weight room should be empty by now, and he still has an extra pair of gloves and gym clothes in his gym locker. He hears Blaine yelling at Finn, but he just can't be there. He needs to kick the shit out of something. Like a punching bag.

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><p>The weight room is empty when Kurt finally walks in. He's wearing his sweats and a grey tank top with his hands taped up. The gloves weren't in his locker, but Kurt really doesn't care at the moment. His body still vibrates with energy and adrenaline. He wants to punch the hell out of something, and the pain might even feel good.<p>

Kurt stands in front of the punching bag.

Anger, annoyance, and frustration bubble up through his skin.

But not fear. For the first time in a while, Kurt's not afraid.

He lets loose one hard punch, feeling the impact reverberate up his arm. It's release. Kurt hits the bag again, then again. He loses track of time, pounding the bag harder and harder. Grunts and cries echo in the empty room, and Kurt lets go of everything.

The bag is Rachel, a selfish, self-entitled bitch that would step all over him to get what she wants even if it hurts him in the process.

It's Finn, so blinded by his love for Rachel that he doesn't see how it hurts Quinn. A shitty leader that puts his popularity before his own brother.

It's the teachers of McKinley, who turn a blind eye to the crap Kurt goes through every day.

It's David Karofsky, who gets more terrifying and unpredictable with every glance.

It's Kurt, who is still a weak little boy that doesn't deserve love.

Kurt punches the bag until his hands stop hurting and he's just numb all over.

Blaine finds him.

He waits until Kurt tires himself out before letting his presence be known. By the end, Kurt's just weakly hitting the bag, using it to keep standing. Sweat drenches everything, even Kurt's hair. He has dried tear tracks on his face and his knuckles are bloodied. Kurt turns his head to see Blaine in the doorway and sighs.

Fucking typical.

He lets Blaine guide him to the locker room and unwrap his hands. The wraps are stained red, but it doesn't hurt. Nothing hurt. Blaine runs his hands under cool water and gets the first aid kit from Coach Beiste's office. He gently cleans the cuts and bandages them with skill.

The silence kills Kurt.

"You're good at that." Kurt says, barely above a whisper. He watches Blaine's hands. They're darker and little thicker than his own, but they move so carefully. Like Blaine doesn't want Kurt to be in pain anymore.

Blaine smiles ruefully. "Lot of practice," he mutters. Kurt's heart clenches. He sees a young boy with wild black curls wrapping his ribs after another beating by the man that used to love him.

He wants to cry again and he doesn't even know why.

"How long were you watching?" Kurt asks instead, though his voice is rough from screaming in the weight room. He hadn't been that angry in a long time.

"Most of it, I think." Blaine finished the right hand and moved on to the left. "After I yelled at Finn for being a first-class shithead, I came here. You looked like you could use the release." His hands shake slightly, but Blaine steadies them before Kurt can be sure. "Are you feeling better?" His eyes watch Kurt carefully.

Kurt shrugs.

"Finn's right," he mutters.

"About what?"

A sob threatens to rip through his chest, but Kurt chokes it down. "I am selfish." He whispers. Then breaks completely.

"Oh, Kurt, no," Blaine gathers him into his arms in seconds, gripping tight. "No, Kurt, you aren't, you're amazing, you're—"

"—The kid that almost killed himself." Kurt says into Blaine's shirt. He grips Blaine's shirt tightly. "I wanted everything to end and I didn't stop to think about anyone else, not you or-or my dad, or F-Finn or Carole." He's crying too hard to speak properly, and Kurt _hates_ that, hates how he can't control his emotions for one goddamn second, and Blaine deserves so much better than him. He deserves someone normal. "I just wanted to die, and fuck everyone else."

Blaine draws him in closer. "But you didn't."

"Because you stopped me."

"Because you _let_ me stop you." Blaine wipes away his tears with his thumbs, hands framing Kurt's face. Kurt can't escape Blaine's eyes. Blaine grins. "You, Kurt Hummel, do not let anyone control you right? Otherwise you wouldn't have worn that purple quilt-thing the other day."

"That was a poncho, Blaine, and its fashion." Kurt quips automatically, because _duh_. But he smiles weakly.

"You're such a brat." Blaine ruffles his hair, dodging Kurt's swat. "But anyway, Finn's an asshole. He's not worth your time." He tugs Kurt to the floor and leans against the wall, letting Kurt rest his head on his shoulder. He's gross and sweaty and probably smells, but Blaine doesn't seem to care. They sit for a while, Blaine stroking his thumb over Kurt's waist. Kurt listens to Blaine's chest rise and fall. Lets himself relax. Breath.

Fuck, he's so in love with Blaine.

Later, Kurt sneaks Blaine into his room. They make out for hours, hands roaming and lips hot and bodies pressed close. Blaine tries to make Kurt feel wanted and loved and it works for a while.

But then night comes and Blaine leaves.

And the nightmares come.

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><p>The next week, Karofsky finally cracks.<p>

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><p><strong>AN-**

**Sorry for ending on a cliffhanger. But thanks for all the reviews, favorites and alerts, they mean so much to me!**

**Really quick- WitS is giving me problems right now, so it'll be a little bit before that's updated. Thanks for all the patience, and I'm so sorry =[**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N-**

**So I'm really nervous about this update, but I'm going through with it anyway. It's pretty heavy.**

**Wanings- Non-con (I'm honestly not sure how explicit it is, so if might trigger don't read),violence, homophobia, language, Karofsky being a slimy asshole**

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><p>Kurt's alone in the weight room. He'd ditched Blaine, claiming a last minute project. Mike asked Blaine to hang out anyway, which was infinitely better than Puck. Befriending someone who didn't get their kicks stealing ATMS would be good for Blaine. Blaine had looked apprehensive, but Kurt kissed him and told him he'd be fine in the library.<p>

He's using the punching bag instead.

The weight room is empty. Football practice ended at four and the hockey and basketball teams don't practice on Wednesdays. It's just Kurt, the punching bag, and the machines.

He has gloves now. His hands have finally healed enough that the gloves absorb most of pain, and Kurt's needed this for a while. He hasn't forgiven Rachel yet, and Finn's still being a dick about it, and Blaine, God, he _loves _Blaine, but Kurt just wants to be alone and think. Just think. He blinks sweat from his eyes as he pounds the bag into submission, releasing all of his frustrations into simple movements.

The black bag sways from his punches. If Blaine were here, he'd hold it steady. Blaine holds a lot of things in Kurt's life steady. Kurt takes another swing and wipes his forehead, thinking vaguely about buying a headband to keep the sweat and his hair out of his eyes. Maybe McQueen made some.

"Hey."

Kurt jumps. That voice. _No no this is MY place, why is HE here?_

Turning, he sees _him._ David Karofsky. The large boy stands in the doorway, looking over Kurt's sweat-covered body, taking in how the damp tank top clings and shows everything. Kurt shivers and puts out one glove-covered hand to stop the swaying bag, breathing heavily from exertion. He feels like a deer in crosshairs.

There are two exits. Karofsky blocks one. The other is through the locker room behind Kurt. After pounding on the bag for a solid hour and a half, though, Kurt's legs and arms tremble. He's not sure how fast he can run. Slowly, Kurt begins taking off the gloves. They'd only slow him down or cushion his blows. And if it comes to _that_, Kurt wants it to _hurt_.

"What do you want, Karofsky?" he spits out, the adrenaline from working out making him much more confident than he actually is. "Don't you terrorize me enough during the day?" Kurt throws the gloves into his bag, not daring to actually look at the jock. He's afraid of what he'll see.

"Fuck, why do you always do that?" Karofsky growls. It's loud, and Kurt looks up to see his bully only a few feet away. His eyes are angry and frustrated and desperate, and Kurt knows how dangerous that combination is. Fighting isn't an option. The only reason he escaped last time was because Karofsky wasn't expecting it. But now…the door is still too far away, but maybe he can get out through the locker room. He's small and fast, but Karofsky is huge and running would only piss him off if he catches Kurt. And he will catch Kurt.

Oh God, he is so scared.

Three weeks ago, he was ready to die, but right now, Kurt just wants to _live_.

"I haven't told anyone; why can't you just leave me alone?" Kurt takes a step back. Why couldn't he have just told Blaine where he'd be; Blaine would have just sat in here with a damn book to keep him company and he'd know what to do when Karofsky is _looking_ at him that that. Karofsky follows. "Don't come near me." Kurt balls his hands into a fist. This will _not_ be a repeat of the bathroom. He won't let it.

Karofsky growls and punches the heavy bag with a loud thud. Kurt jumps. "Fuck, Hummel! I just want to talk, stop fucking running!" he shouts.

Three steps and Kurt can be in the locker room. He can hide in one of the shower stalls until Karofsky leaves. But he looks at Karofsky and sees _fear_.

Why the hell is his biggest tormentor _afraid_?

Kurt hates himself, but he stands his ground and crosses his arms protectively over his chest. "So talk."

Karofsky doesn't meet Kurt's eyes. "There's cameras in here," he mutters. "Can we, um," Karofsky sniffs, a deep, wet sound. "Can we go in the locker room?"

Kurt tenses. He doesn't like it. He doesn't like being alone with a guy twice his weight and who has shown violent tendencies towards him in the past. But Karofsky is here and asking for _help_ and dealing with your sexuality is hard enough as it is without being rejected by yet another person. Maybe if he can get Karofsky to just _talk_ he'll stop torturing Kurt.

Maybe.

"Yeah. Come on." Kurt watches Karofsky carefully as he grabs his gym bag. "Just…don't come any closer, alright?" He may feel bad for his bully, but he's not completely stupid.

Karofsky wipes his face and his reddened eyes, but follows Kurt. He leans against the lockers while Kurt gets out his school bag and puts on his coat. The coat is thigh-length and covers everything, and Kurt lets out a slow breath at shielding his body. His red sweatpants don't match the blue coat, but Kurt honestly can't care. The locker room is silent except for when Kurt knocks something against the metal. Each clang echoes. It feels like the first time Kurt confronted the jock. The smell of sweat and _boy_ fills his nose and Kurt hears his heart pounding at the memory of that forced kiss that gave him nightmares for weeks.

Kurt tries really hard not to run.

He wishes Blaine were here.

"Start talking." Kurt forces out. He focuses on his locker; he can't look at Karofsky.

A sniffle, a shifting body. "I can't stop thinking about last time." Karofsky whispers.

_But not the same way I do, right?_ Kurt thinks bitterly. _Do you remember it like I do? Did you think you were disgusting and cheap and used? Did it fuck you up so much you nearly had a breakdown the first time your boyfriend tried to use tongue?_

But he bites his words back. "When I broke your nose in the bathroom?" Kurt chooses to say.

Karofsky narrows his eyes. "You know what I'm talking about, Hummel."

"No, what are you talking about?" Kurt turns around and glares. The anger is refreshing. If Karofsky is going to hint at one of the worst experiences of Kurt's life, he should face it himself. And what it means about him.

They watch each other. Kurt thinks he hears a muffled cough, but ignores it.

"When you kissed me." Karofsky looks at the ground.

"That's not what happened. We're done here." Kurt turns and walks away. A thick hand grabs his arm and stops him.

"Fine, when I kissed _you_, happy now, Hummel?" Karofsky yells, squeezing his hand hard enough leave bruises on Kurt's pale skin.

_Now_ Kurt is actually really scared.

"Let go of me." He says in a deadly calm voice. Part of him is freaking out and in an incoherent mess, but the rest of Kurt stays cool and collected, because losing it in front of Karofsky is not an option. "David, let me go!" He tries to tug his arm out and run, but Karofsky just growls and pushes Kurt against the lockers.

The breath is knocked out of Kurt and he gasps at the sudden pain spreading out from his back. His arm is trapped at his side and Karofsky's other arm braces against his chest, pushing him into the cold metal. It's a familiar position.

Kurt stares at Karofsky's furious red face and tries to kick his way free like last time, but Karofsky just presses closer until he can't move, every inch of their body touching. Kurt twists his head away from Karofsky's thick stench of Axe, and _why_ does it have to be Axe, only pretentious douchebags ever use that damn body spray. Karofsky breathes heavily into Kurt's ear and Kurt wills this to just be a dream and he's actually curled up in Blaine's arms, asleep from watching Jersey Shore or The Bachelorette even though Blaine hates those shows, but he watches them anyway because he'll do anything to make Kurt happy.

This would be so much different if Blaine were here. There's a gasp near Kurt's head, maybe from the locker, but then he feels something _hard_ against his thigh and Kurt's mind goes blank.

He opens his mouth to scream, hoping that someone, _anyone_ is still there and can save him; because Karofsky has him pinned and helpless and it apparently turns him on, and Kurt _will not_ let this happen, no way.

A hand presses over his mouth and Kurt doesn't even _think_ before he bites downs and screams for help, fighting Karofsky's iron grip. The hand on his arm grabs his hair and slams his head into the locker, and Kurt cries out as blood begins to drip down his face.

Karofsky lets go and Kurt's legs buckle under him as he falls to the floor. His head swims, and _fuck_, it has to be a concussion, his vision goes blurry before focusing again and his stomach churns. Then hands grab his coat and throw him against the lockers. Kurt's teeth rattle in his head from the throw, but Karofsky just watches him try to stand up again. He spits out blood.

_Blaine…help…_

"Help me…" Kurt gasps out. God, his head hurts. He shakily gets to his feet.

"Stay down!" Karofsky pushes his chest and Kurt falls over the bench, knocking over the stray bin of hockey sticks and knees banging into the ground. The sticks clatter as they hit the tiles. "Why don't you ever just stay down, you fucking fag? Why don't you give up?" Every sentence is punctuated with a sharp kick to Kurt's ribs. "Why do you keep standing up when you're only gonna get knocked down again?"

Pain. Just…everywhere. Kurt's eyes water, the tears mixing with the blood on his face. Why does he bother getting up? Why does he keep fighting? He groans lowly when another kick collides with his side. Deep within him, Kurt feels something snap and gasps sharply. Turning his head, Kurt spits out more blood on the white tile. The contrast of dark red on white catches his eye. Only a few weeks ago, he would have just let himself bleed out. Just let go of everything; fall away. But now…

"Blaine," Kurt whispers. Curly black hair, hazel eyes, silver earrings, leather jacket, and smile that lights up the world. That's why he keeps going.

It's the wrong thing to say. Karofsky growls and straddles Kurt, pressing him into the ground. His hands hold Kurt's wrists in an iron grip. Kurt groans when Karofsky's weight crushes his bruised ribs. When he leans over, breathing foul breath into Kurt's face, Kurt feels his tormentor's dick digging into his stomach and he freezes.

"That fucking hobbit?" Karosky's voice drops into a dangerous tone. "He's not gonna save you. I know you told him. About me."

"I…didn't…"

"LIAR!" Karofsky punches the tiles besides Kurt's face. "He told me!"

_Shit, Blaine, why would you do that? I told you to stay away!_ But Kurt keeps silent. Karofsky is too angry to listen to anything he says and Kurt still can't move. Karofsky weighs too much.

"He went on and on about how you guys could help me," Karofsky spits out. "Like I would ever ask for help from a couple of fairy fags like you." Karofsky leans in close to Kurt's ear. "He warned me to stay away from you," he hisses. "Told me to back off because you were his." Kurt hears the silent laugh in Karofsky's words and starts to shake. Oh God, he wants Blaine here right now, why isn't Blaine here. "He's wrong, Kurt," Karosky says, trailing one feather-light touch down Kurt's bloodied cheek. "You aren't his." It's so different from the violence earlier, and Kurt is so fucking tired of trying to keep up with Karofsky's mood swings, but then Karofsky starts mouthing at Kurt's neck and Kurt tries not to cry, not to whimper, but he is just _so_ scared, Blaine's touches never felt like this, like a threat.

"Please, just let me go," Kurt whispers. He tries to move, but Karofsky pins him against the ground and no matter how much training Kurt has, Kurt has no leverage and Karofsky is still twice his weight. "Please, David, just let me go, I'll never say anything and neither will Blaine, I promise, please David, _let me help you_." Kurt's voice trembles. He twists his head away from Karofsky, away from his _mouth_ and then Kurt sees it. Next to him, the scattered hockey sticks. Karofsky is busy trying to suck a hickey into Kurt's neck and grinding against his stomach and Kurt can feel himself responding; _fuck you, body_, and wants to throw up, but he reaches out an arm and prays.

His fingers graze the wood and slip and Kurt screams in frustration, but then Karofsky swallows it by kissing Kurt hard. "Want you so bad," he pants into Kurt's mouth, "Wear those tight-ass pants all the time; you fucking tease; you want it too, you slut," and he thrusts harder. Kurt's skin crawls and Kurt bites down on Karofsky's invading tongue, blood flowing into his mouth. Karofsky yells and punches Kurt's stomach, but he lets go, _thank GOD_, he lets go and Kurt stretches out and grabs one long stick. The wood is firm beneath his fingers and Kurt swings blindly, catching Karofsky across his face and rebreaking his nose. Karofsky screams and falls backwards, his face bloody, letting Kurt back away against the lockers and clutch the stick like a lifeline. The adrenaline pumping through his body makes Kurt's limbs shake, but he holds on to the stick and pushes himself to his feet even as his ribs scream in protest.

Karofsky's face is terrifying. Furious and dripping blood and his eyes look ready to murder Kurt. He crawls forward a step and Kurt doesn't even think before he lets out a primal yell and swings, hitting Karofsky's face with the end of the hockey stick. Karofsky goes down in a heap of blood and pain, and Kurt just stares at the collapsed boy, breathing harshly. When Karofksy groans and tries to move, Kurt swings again, hitting Karofsky's shoulders. And again. And again.

"I am NOT your victim! Not anymore!" Kurt's mind is filled with rage and fear and he knows Karofsky has his hands up and is trying to defend himself and crying but fuck him, Kurt's done with it, with being weak and helpless. "Do you hear me? NOT ANYMORE!" He's crying, sobbing between swings, and Karofsky isn't even moving anymore. Kurt stares at the mass of bloodied flesh before him; his breath rattling in his ears. It's hardly recognizable as a human. Kurt lets the red stick clatter to the ground and he falls against the locker, sliding down when his knees buckle.

What the fuck has he done.

The locker room is almost silent but for Kurt's choking sobs. There's a faint noise from behind him, but Kurt's too tired and in too much pain to even look. Karofsky isn't making a sound and Kurt can't tell if he's even breathing, but he's not getting any closer. Sitting alone in a locker room with a beaten up boy that might be dying, Kurt can feel his fragile grip on reality starting to slip. He is _so_ fucked.

Shakily, he reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out his phone. It's cracked again, but it still turns on and Kurt scrolls to a familiar number and hits _call_, wincing at the smears left by his bloody fingers.

The ringing grounds him and Kurt closes his eyes, shutting out the sight of swollen flesh and blood.

_"Hello? Kurt, what's up, you okay?"_ Kurt wants to cry at the innocent tone of Blaine's words because Blaine thought he'd be in the fucking library, and Kurt actually just beat the shit out of his bully after getting sexually assaulted. Oh God.

"Blaine? I need you." Kurt gets out before bursting into tears.

When the paramedics get there, Kurt's already thrown up enough times that he's completely pliant. He barely even blinks when a cop slides handcuffs on his wrists or when Jacob Ben Israel is rescued from a locker with his video camera and a huge grin or when Blaine freaks out until they let him ride in the ambulance. Blaine tries to talk to him, but Kurt only hugs him close and doesn't let go.

He's just…numb.

And it's wonderful.

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><p><strong>AN-**

**Yeah. Um few things- Karofsky in canon, I have a few issues with, but this is an alternate version who is very messed up.**

**I tentatively know how I want to end this, so things should start getting better from here on out.**

**Blaine will be back next time.**

**Thanks as always for all the reviews, favorites, and alerts, I love every one! And please feel free to talk to me on tumblr (center-of-the-storm) because I am a procrastinator and like to talk to people. Thank you for reading!**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N-**

**This took a while, but it is long. Enjoy this for what it is!**

**Warnings (seriously, pay attention)- language, homophobia, mentions of non-con (kind of explicit but not really), lots of swearing, depression, Kurt being a mess, bad legal knowledge (I tried)**

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><p>The hospital smells the same way it did ten years ago: like antiseptic, sickness, and death. In the emergency room, Kurt blinks back tears and squeezes Blaine's hand within an inch of its life while the nurse feels his ribs through the bruises. It hurts. The detectives try to question him, but Kurt can't make his mouth work. Kurt resolutely does <em>not<em> think about how this cold, clinical place sapped the life from his mother all those years ago. Memories of the last time he'd spent in the hospital mixes with the locker room, and Kurt just shakes and turns into Blaine's shoulder, blocking out the sterile white walls and empty faces of doctors and nurses.

Talking just seems so pointless.

After he gets treated in the ER (three cracked ribs, mild internal bleeding, bruises across his chest, back, neck, and wrists, lacerations on his torso, knuckles, and head, and a mild concussion), Burt shows up to force Blaine to go home to get some sleep (it doesn't go well; Kurt hears the yells and curses but somehow Burt gets Blaine to leave and the detectives to go speak to the Karofsky's). He is admitted for observation and put in a regular room with an uncomfortable bed and a small night table and a tiny TV up in the corner with ten channels. It's on some football game now, for his dad. Burt tried to talk earlier, but Kurt ignored it. His left wrist is handcuffed to the rails on the bed. The silver metal ring sits heavy and accusing on his arm, reminding him that he royally fucked up this time.

The police officer had looked apologetic when he clicked the cuff shut. _"Just a precaution_," he'd said. _"We just need some time to sort out this mess_." Kurt didn't respond, but Burt glared at the officer until he left. It was a good thing Blaine wasn't there. He'd have flipped out and the last thing Kurt needed was Blaine getting thrown in juvie for attacking a police officer.

He doesn't know anything about Karofsky yet. He'd been alive in the locker room; rushed to the hospital in another ambulance. Kurt had watched them load him up over Blaine's shoulder. There was so much blood that they had to wipe his face clean to put the oxygen mask on. That pale face covered with the mask and surrounded by blood haunts Kurt. _He'd_ done that. He'd hurt someone.

Over the years, Kurt was used to a lot of fear. But not like this.

He'd never been afraid of himself like this.

Before Blaine left, he'd hugged Kurt fiercely, banishing the thick scent of antiseptic and replacing it with _Blaine_, and told Kurt he'd be back as soon as possible. That the recording Jacob Ben Israel took would clear him. That everything would be okay.

Kurt's not sure if he believes his boyfriend.

The universe doesn't have a good track record with him.

A nurse comes in to check his bandages. _Darla, _her nametag says. The small, Hispanic woman checks each of his ribs so that Kurt is nearly in tears and and looks over the stitches in his head from the locker. She gives him some painkillers to take the edge off his ribs then she performs a few concussion tests, which Kurt apparently passes. Darla mentions something about how memory loss is a common side effect and Kurt just laughs bitterly because he remembers _everything_.

And he wishes he couldn't because underneath the smell of _hospital_ is _Karofsky_ and four showers later he still can't get the feeling of his bully's skin against his own off; the utter violation the came from Karofsky's mouth and dick. Kurt tries to turn away but the damn cuff holds his arm at a painful angle. Darla smiles sadly and leaves the father and son. Kurt scratches at his wrists. They're dark with bruises from where Karofsky held him against the floor. His body is even worse: a mess of deep purple and yellow blossoms across his torso and arms and neck and Kurt digs in harder; he can still feel the ghost of Karofsky's fingers and he just wants it gone.

"Hey, stop that." Burt frowns, taking Kurt's hand. Kurt tenses at the touch, but forces himself to relax. It's just his father. Guilt and fear and shame bubbles up so suddenly he feels like he's drowning and he's so drained and emotionally exhausted and overwhelmed because _he'd been assaulted and then almost killed someone_ and Kurt had no idea he was capable of beating someone into unconsciousness and he's _enjoyed_ smashing Karofsky's face in; it'd felt fucking fantastic, and he could have prevented the whole attack if he'd just told someone after the first time like Blaine wanted or if he'd stopped wearing his clothes, if he'd just blended in he would have been fine but he just _had_ to be flamboyant and rub it in everyone's face so really this was all his fault, _his fault_ and everything just builds and builds and he bursts into tears.

_Christ. _

"I'm sorry, Dad," Kurt whispers, grabbing for his father and crying into his shoulder. "'Sall my fault, sorry, sorry, I'm sorry…" _Sorry for being weak. Sorry I couldn't defend myself. Sorry I lost control and hurt someone. Sorry I really wanted to kill him._

_Sorry I'm too broken to fix._

_Sorry…sorry…sorry…_

Burt slips back into father mode and pulls Kurt into one his bear hugs, tight and safe and warm and smelling of stale coffee and engine grease and _home_. Kurt just cries harder as Burt rubs his back, almost like Blaine does. Every deep breath and choking sob hurts his ribs, but Kurt can't stop himself. It feels good, actually. To mourn himself and give in to fear. A piece of himself died in that locker room and Kurt will never get it back. Suddenly, his stupid fight with Rachel seems so childish. And oh God, he can't even think about facing the Glee club after all of this; can't deal with the pity and _understanding_.

Slowly, he gets his breathing under control and his eyes run dry. Kurt doesn't let go of his dad just yet though. In Burt's arms, he feels like a little boy, but he's protected. Safe.

"Kiddo, I ain't mad at you, alright?" Burt says wearily. Kurt just focuses on the scratchy sheets. It's doing weeks of damage to his skin. Burt nudges him until Kurt meets his eyes. "I'm not mad. You didn't do anything wrong. It's not your fault." Burt's voice is sure, _so_ sure, and Kurt wonders how much he knows.

"Did you hear the tape?" Kurt whispers. He's not sure what he wants the answer to be. The thought of his own father seeing him as _that_ kind of victim makes his stomach churn. Jacob Ben Israel turned the tape directly over to the police and they promised only those necessary would listen, but Kurt still felt fucking _violated _and now everyone was going to know exactly what happened and Kurt just wants to be left alone and not be _that gay kid that almost got raped and killed the football star._ The pity alone will kill him.

Burt hesitates and that's all Kurt needs to know. He pulls away and turns over, curling in on himself and wincing when his ribs shift. "Hey, stop that." His father puts his hand on Kurt's arm and Kurt _jumps_, thrown back into the locker room with _"so fucking perfect, you fag, you slut" _and he bursts into tears again, _fuck_.

"Oh, hell," Burt mutters, voice thick. Footsteps walk away from him and there's a faint murmur at the door, and then more footsteps and then leather-clad arms wrap around his middle and the bed dips when a familiar presence settles behind him. Kurt presses back into Blaine's embrace.

He should have known Blaine hadn't left.

The painkillers numb everything and Blaine's warm breath on the back of his neck and the overwhelming sense of _safe_ and _love _help Kurt drift off to sleep.

He'll think about everything in the morning.

* * *

><p>They discharge Kurt from the hospital the next day with a lightly bandaged torso, a few stitches, more painkillers, and orders to be woken up every couple of hours in case the concussion is serious. The nurse says he might experience mood swings for awhile and Kurt rolls his eyes. He's been shifting between anger, depression, fear, and exhaustion for the past sixteen hours; he knows his emotions are fucking fragile at this point.<p>

He's even made Finn nearly cry when they finally let him and Carole in his room. Finn said something stupid about hot nurses and Kurt ripped into him until Blaine glared and stopped him. Ashamed, Kurt refused to speak again for a few hours. Then he dissolved into tears again.

Fuck.

Karofsky is in a medically-induced coma and hasn't woken up yet. No one would tell Kurt how bad it was, but Detective Adler gave him a sad look and said "Just hope he recovers enough to talk_."_ She didn't make Kurt feel any better.

Finn helps him into the house, though he still eyes Kurt warily. He's not sure if it's because of the outburst at the hospital or hearing how badly Kurt had beaten up Karofsky, but Finn's fear rolls off him in waves and Kurt's just tired. He takes the route of not talking to Finn at all, which actually makes Finn relax. Go figure.

Kurt's suspended from school and allowed to stay in the house with an ankle monitor. The judge works fast when it comes to violent crimes involving a potential murder and juveniles. Kurt wrinkles his nose at the bulky black device clinking shut around his ankle.

"I'm really sorry about this." Detective Adler says. Kurt likes her. She's fairly young, dresses professionally, and speaks to him frankly, like he's a person and not a china doll. It also helps that her face always darkens when she mentions Karofsky's name. She's on his side. "It's just for now. I'm going to talk to the DA and get this investigation wrapped up as soon as possible." Her partner stands up after checking the monitor. It's not coming off. Finn pokes at it until Kurt tries to kick him in his big stupid face.

"Are you guys going to charge Kurt?" Burt narrows his eyes and Carole rubs his arm gently. His heart hasn't been well these past months, and Kurt really hopes it holds up under all this stress. That was one of the biggest reasons he kept the bullying from Burt. To protect his father.

Fucking awesome plan, Hummel.

Detective Adler winces. "It depends on if David recovers." She says.

"Ohio self-defense laws are tricky," her partner explains. Kurt never got his name. He looks Italian and there's a gold cross around his neck, but he seems to like Kurt well enough. His voice is soothing. "In Ohio, you can execute lethal force if there's imminent danger to your life or body and you cannot retreat. Which we can prove pretty well." Kurt snorts. They'd better be able to prove it. There's video. "The real problem is instigation."

Kurt stares at him. "You…you think I led him on?" Nausea churns in his stomach. "You think I provoked him?"

"No, Kurt, of course not." Detective Adler shakes her head. "We know this is not your fault. You just…" She takes a deep breath. "I would get a decent lawyer just in case. Everything depends on how forceful the Karofsky's are at forcing charges. David is almost certainly going to plead guilty to assault. The tape is just too damning in regards to that."

"We're going to get this cleared up, Kurt." Her partner claps a hand on Kurt's should and Kurt fights to not jump. "You just focus on recovering. We'll be back in a few days to get a full interview, alright?"

Kurt nods numbly. He's going to have to talk about the bullying. And Karofsky. After the detectives leave, Kurt ignores his father and Finn's looks and stalks to his room and slams the door.

It's so fucking unfair.

Kurt takes a shaky breath and tries not to cry. He was defending himself; Karofsky was going to _hurt_ him; _why_ is he the one being treated like a common criminal here? God, he wants Blaine here. Blaine makes him feel safe. Blaine doesn't watch him like he's a ticking time bomb that could blow up at any time; like he's psychopath in a locker room covered in blood next to a hockey stick and a body.

But Principal Figgins had threatened Blaine with expulsion if he skipped school again, and Blaine couldn't risk getting sent away. Not now.

His father knocks on the door. "Kurt?"

No. He can't face his dad. Not yet. He ignores the second knock and Finn's loud whisper before he hears Burt send Finn to school. They leave him alone and Kurt falls back on his bed.

Blaine gave him his jacket the night before when they kicked him out after visiting hours. _"I love you,"_ he'd said. _"Just—just wear the stupid thing, ok? It looks good on you."_ He'd smiled shakily, kissed Kurt, and left, cursing the nurses out on the way. Kurt slept with the ratty black leather over his hospital gown, muffling his tears in the sleeves. It could have been worse. The jacket kept _Karofsky_ at bay.

In his room, away from the _looks_ from his father and Carole and Finn, away from the judgment of random strangers, Kurt curls up on his bed and tugs the jacket around him. He hugs himself, breathing in the smell. It's like being surrounded by Blaine—smoke, sandalwood, and _Blaine_. He closes his eyes and tries not to cry.

The painkillers make everything hazy and Kurt drifts.

_He's back in the locker room…pinned…can't move his arms or legs and _he's_ there; he's on top of him and please no no not again…_

_ "So fucking hot, such a fucking tease, want you so bad," and he's crying and trying to fight but his arms weigh five thousand pounds and then a thick unwanted hand is ON him and squeezing and unzipping his jeans and Kurt can't breathe, can't move, no, that's Blaine's job, JUST BLAINE, get off get off GET OFF!_

_ HELP ME, he screams, but no one comes and Karofsky starts laughing and laughing and then Kurt's naked and flipped over on the cold tiles and then there's PAIN oh god so much pain, stop it STOP IT HELP ME and a warm liquid runs down his leg with every thrust and he just cries and cries and cries until—_

Kurt jolts awake with a short scream. He's soaked in sweat and breathing like he just ran a marathon, but his stomach churns and he barely gets his trashcan under his face before he's throwing up every scrap of food he's eaten since the night before. Kurt coughs at the acidic bile, remembers Karofsky's hands rubbing up his sides and down his face, and throws up again. Somehow, his nightmare hadn't drawn his father's attention, and Kurt's infinitely thankful for that. Burt doesn't need to see his son having another breakdown.

Once Kurt's sure his stomach is calmed down enough he sets the trashcan on the floor and just tries to _breathe_. But then memories of the locker room flood back and Kurt's skin is too tight and crawls and Karofsky's smell is clogging his nose and suffocating him and he feels so disgusting he jumps off his bed and starts ripping off his clothes. Blaine's jacket gets folded neatly, but the rest of his designer chic is thrown across the floor. The white bandages around his chest hide the deep bruises, but Kurt takes them off, resolutely ignoring the way his skin changes from a pale cream to a sick yellow and dark purple across his ribs. Kurt grabs a towel and runs to the bathroom for the sixth shower in twenty-four hours.

He cries again in the shower, hoping that Blaine gets back soon. God, his mood swings are exhausting and Kurt just needs to _be_ and not worry about fucking anything.

The water runs until it turns cold, but Kurt still doesn't move.

It hurts too much.

* * *

><p><em>Last night they said the fire had spread<br>And we said our prayers  
>And now the flames are burning me in my bed,<br>But I just don't care_

Kurt nods along faintly to the beat as he stares at his ceiling. Déjà vu. Three weeks ago, he studied those cracks and wanted to die.

He's not really sure what he wants now.

Next to him, his laptop is open to Jacob Ben Israel's blog. Somehow, the Jewish blogger kept a copy of the audio from the locker room from the police and he'd uploaded it for the world to see and mock and laugh at. His violation on display. Publically. Finn had texted him a warning. So had the rest of the club, but Kurt couldn't face them yet. The comments were…something. He read all of them, numb. All day long, the house phone had been ringing until Burt, fed up and pissed, unplugged every one. That didn't stop the media vans outside the house. Kurt turns up the music to drown out the shouts.

_Well I wish that I was as good as you  
>Caring and trusting<br>And I wish that my condition was new but I'm old and rusting_

Fuck them. None of them know him. Kurt punches his pillow, but groans at the strain on his ribs. God, he needed more painkillers.

"Brand New?" Kurt blinked to see Blaine leaning against the doorframe. School must be over. He didn't respond. Blaine sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. Dark circles ringed his eyes and his shoulders sagged, like he hadn't slept. Kurt wondered why. "They're kind of depressing, aren't they?" Blaine gestured at the iPod dock. Getting no answer, he flopped down next to Kurt, wisely ignoring Kurt's flinch at the sudden contact.

"No, seriously Kurt, don't they have that one song with a line about drowning babies or something?" Blaine poked at Kurt's shoulders.

"_Handcuffs_. Yes." Kurt swatted his arm away. "We're on _You Stole_ right now."

Blaine just looks at him, but leaves it alone. The music continues, full of dark fury, anguish, and hurt. It feels familiar by now. Kurt likes it.

_Now I know that you stole  
>Yeah, you stole<br>From the cradles they were rocked in  
>You took the first words that they spoke<br>Yeah you stole_

"You're wearing my jacket," Blaine says happily. Kurt had put it back on after his hour-long shower. It still smelled like Blaine and Kurt just needed to be reminded he was loved by _someone_ for a least a little while so…yeah. He's wearing Blaine's jacket. Though Blaine doesn't seem to mind. "Shut up. I just mean…" Blaine trails off and shifts in closer, his body pressing up next to Kurt's. "I just _really_ like you wearing it." He tugs on the worn leather.

Sitting up, Kurt shrugs it off and hands the jacket back to Blaine. "It helped. Thanks." Kurt tries to smile, but it fades. He can't figure Blaine out. Why was he here? Aren't they over? They should be over, Blaine deserves so much better than Kurt "I-Almost-Got-Raped-and-Now-I'm-a-Violent-Psychopath" Hummel. Everyone else thinks he's crazy. Dangerous. Damned. Dirty. Why shouldn't his boyfriend as well? His heartbeat quickens and his stomach jumps into his throat at the thought of losing Blaine.

He's too full of too many emotions. When he turns his head, he sees the laptop. And the comments.

_Hummel was fucking asking for it you see what he wears all the time?_

_ dave probably got confused and thougt the fag was agirl_

_ omg I can't believe kurt went crazy and killed dave wtf like really?_

_ Always knew Hummel was a psycho poor karofksy_

_ I will pray that both of these boys see the light and decide to turn to the Lord in these tough times to overcome their perverted preferences._

A tear slides down his cheek and Kurt wipes it away quickly, not wanting Blaine to see.

Nothing gets past Blaine though.

"You saw the blog?" Blaine asks when the track changes. Kurt just nods jerkily. He won't look at Blaine. Shame rolls over him in waves, followed by anger and depression. To the world, he's no longer Kurt Hummel, Blaine Anderson's boyfriend.

No, he's Kurt Hummel, that gay fag that got sexually assaulted and went crazy and practically killed a popular high school jock.

He's unstable. Tainted. Undesirable.

He doesn't deserve Blaine. He never really did.

"I listened to it." Kurt's hears how calm and toneless his voice is. It was the worst decision he's ever had; to hear himself trying to fight off Karofsky, hearing his screams and cries and pleas to _let me go, please no, stop_ and Karofsky's soft whispers of _so fucking hot, you whore, you slut, fag_ and then the sick sound of wood against skin and bone and Kurt's screams of fury and anger and Karofsky's pained whimpers and sobs. He was there; he knew what happened; but hearing it all over again made everything so much more real. He couldn't pretend it was just a dream. It happened. Kurt has to agree with most of the town. He does sound crazy on the tape. It doesn't sound like self-defense. Not after the third or fourth smack of stick against face and the rage-filled screams he barely recognizes as his own.

"I haven't." Blaine says. When Kurt's head snaps up, Blaine shrugs, though his face goes pale and he looks faintly sick. "I don't…I don't want to. Not unless you tell me it's okay." He takes a sharp breath. "You deserve that right, at least." Kurt's pretty sure he's never loved Blaine more. His throat closes up and Kurt garbs Blaine's hand and squeezes, hoping that at least some of the relief and gratitude he feels gets through the touch. Blaine squeezes back. "I'm not gonna lie. I heard about it. It's all over the school. Almost got in a couple fights when some of assholes in homeroom decided to make a joke about it." Blaine looks furious and his hands clench, like he's imagining punching the hell out of someone. He probably would. But the thought of his whole school listening to his attack and laughing reminds Kurt of _Karofsky_ and violation and shame and embarrassment and Kurt turns away, chest starting to heave.

Karofsky's smell is all around him. Kurt wants to claw his skin off. All those showers; and he can still _feel_ Karofsky's lips on his own, his fingers stroking his face, his body—

He doesn't notice he's in the beginnings of a panic attack, chest tight and lungs frozen until Blaine, panicked, pulls him in close and whispers soft endearments. How anyone thinks Blaine is anything less than perfect is a mystery. Kurt clutches Blaine to himself, tears soaking Blaine's shirt in seconds. How can he possibly still be crying; he hasn't _stopped_ since yesterday; oh hell.

Kurt hates himself.

"Hey, come here." Blaine lets Kurt hide his face in his neck. "They don't know you. They don't know anything about you." His hand rubs Kurt's arm, gentle but firm. So different from Karofsky's rough grasp.

"They know enough." Kurt whispers. "I'm sorry I'm such a mess." Kurt says into Blaine's neck. Apologizing is second nature by now.

"You're a moron and need to stop apologizing." Blaine says grumpily. He hugs Kurt tighter. "Besides, if anyone should be apologizing, it's me." The words are small and choked and cuts right through Kurt's foggy depression.

No. "Blaine—"

"I should have been there." Blaine interrupts. He frowns, tugging on his earrings and glaring at Kurt. "I told you I'd protect you from _him_ and I failed."

This isn't okay. Blaine is fucking perfect; he's come when Kurt called, stayed with him during the ER and the police visit, held him when he breaks down again and again, and isn't leaving Kurt. At least not yet. He shouldn't feel like this. It's all Kurt's fault, why doesn't anyone get it? Kurt fixes Blaine with a steely gaze. "I lied to you about where I'd be. Are you psychic?" he growls out.

"Well, no, but—"

"So shut up about it and hold me. I don't want to talk about it anymore." Kurt pulls his stupid boyfriend back into his arms. Fuck it; he deserves cuddles after this shit day.

Blaine, sweet, perfect Blaine, obliges with a small smile. They stay on the bed for a long time, barely moving. All the worry and fear and shame and anger slip away and for the first time in a while, Kurt just _breathes._

Maybe tomorrow would be better.

Kurt tugs Blaine closer.

He really hopes so.

* * *

><p><strong>AN-**

**Song: You Stole by Brand New**

**I'm actually not kidding, Brand New is really depressing. I basically listened to them over and over while writing this.**

**Anyway, all legal and medical mistakes are my own. I'm not a doctor and I don't live in Ohio, so I'm going off Law and Order and what I learned about PA's laws in Crim 113. Take it for what it is. I mean if you want to get technical, Kurt probably should have been held in the hospital a little longer for observation, but lets pretend Burt's a scary guy.**

**Also if you are waiting for Wheel In The Sky...don't hold your breath. I've just hit a roadblock on that story and i'm trying to power through it, but everything just sounds really stupid and I want it to be good. Newsflash- writing without a plan is not a good idea.**

**One more thing-I'm thinking of bumping this up to an M rating. While there won't be smut, this story is pretty dark so far, so what do you guys think? I don't want to get in trouble for mislabeling this.**

**As always, thank you so much for all the reviews, favorites, and alerts! I love you guys!**

**Update- Maplelump pointed out to me that you don't wrap cracked ribs because putting that kind of pressure on your torso could lead to a collapsed lung or puncturing a lung and that's Just not good. So don't wrap up damaged ribs. My bad! So because Kurt got kicked pretty hard, there's going to be a few cuts from Karofsky's boots, hence bandages. Sorry for the mistake, I'm currently going back and fixing those parts.**


	14. Chapter 14  Aftermath

**A/N- **

**This was actually a drabble prompt on tumblr I figured I'd upload here too. I have the next chapter done, that will be uploaded tomorrow morning probably.**

**So the prompt was "**_Blaine freaking out after Kurt's accident because he's the one who taught him how to defend himself." _****

****I kind of did it! Anyway, this takes place right after Kurt is first admitted to the hospital and is entirely Blaine's point of view. ****

****Warnings- lots of swearing because Blaine has a potty mouth, some homophobia and language.****

* * *

><p>After getting kicked out of Kurt's hospital room, Blaine drags one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs from the waiting room down the hall and parks it next to Kurt's door, glaring at the hospital employees that dare to make eye contact with him. He's still raw from finding Kurt on the cold white tile, broken further than Blaine's ever seen. Worse than that night he found the razors and pills. Kurt's lips were red even beneath the blood and a large purple hickey was on his neck. Wide blue eyes that screamed <em>help <em>and _hurt_ and_loss_. And then Karofsky. It didn't matter that he was unconscious; Blaine _knew _he'd done something to Kurt. When Kurt flinched away from his touches at first and then grabbed Blaine, he heard the freaked whispers. _I tried to stop him, sorry, sorry, I'm so dirty now, I'm so sorry Blaine, it's all my fault. _Something squeezes Blaine's chest and he tries not to cry and breakdown because Kurt needs him, needs him to be strong, even if this mess is all on Blaine.

Fuck Burt. Seriously, just fuck him. The only reason Blaine's actually outside and not inside wrapped around Kurt like his minds screams for him to be is Kurt's small whimpers at their loud voices and his terrified eyes as the two most important people in his life claw at each other. Blaine couldn't do that, couldn't scare Kurt even more, and one look at Burt told him that's exactly where Kurt got his stupid stubbornness from. So Blaine, with a fierce hug and a whiff of _Kurt_ and some comforting words is outside while Burt gets to be inside.

The doctors and nurses eye him sympathetically, but Blaine ignores them. The hospital is so white and cold and clinical and Blaine hates it here. Blaine's hands shake until he stuffs them in his armpits. Can't show weakness, he can _never _show weakness. He closes his eyes for a second because shit, he's so fucking tired and he just wants a cigarette to calm his nerves, but he quit those months ago when he found out Kurt's a singer. Smoke was bad for singers. He hadn't fully admitted it to himself then, but Blaine knew he'd liked Kurt. He always had.

It was Kurt's eyes that scared him the most. In the ambulance and then the emergency room. They were dull and gray and empty and it cut Blaine deeply. Kurt's eyes were his favorite part of Kurt, just in front of Kurt's lips and Kurt's hands. Always so expressive, even if the expression was hurt or pain. The last time Blaine had seen eyes like that was that morning after he made out with Rachel. He'd never wanted to see them again, but then Karofsky happened. He'd tried so hard not to cry while they patched his boyfriend up, but he wasn't sure if he'd succeeded. Kurt hadn't noticed.

Blaine sits cross-legged in the chair, alone, and still covered in Kurt's blood. Or maybe Karofsky. His blood boils at the thought of the football player. Kurt is crazy; Kurt's the most perfect person Blaine knows. In the history of the world, even. This was Karofsky. He heard that Jew-fro kid earlier. Karofsky _assaulted _Kurt. Sexually.

Blaine bites back a sob.

This isn't Kurt's fault. Or Karofsky. It's _his_.

He didn't protect Kurt.

All those times with the heavy bag were useless. Kurt still wound up hurt.

He knew Karofsky; knew he was unstable and had a sick crush on Kurt. Knew how dangerous he was.

"_Stay the fuck away from him. I was offering help, but fuck that shit. You don't deserve him." Blaine spits out. God, he _hates_ Karofsky. Hates how he thinks touching _his_ Kurt is ok. Kurt is never going near him again. Never._

_Karofsky smirks, dark and confident. "Try and stop me, Anderson." He challenges, though he stays well away from Blaine's fists. Wise move, because if Blaine had an opening? The giant idiot would be on the ground and missing his balls faster than he could grovel out a pathetic _please.

_Blaine squeezes his fists. He's actually trying now; he wants to finish the year out at McKinley. For Kurt. Who gets this fucking huge and beautiful smile when Blaine casually mentions their summer or senior year or college or some shit. Juvie would fuck that up and Blaine's decided to make it his mission to keep Kurt happy forever._

_Yeah, he's a sap._

"_I mean it." Blaine growls out. He might have a boyfriend, but he's still a badass and this asshole is encroaching on his territory. Kurt would kick his ass if he knew Blaine thought of him like that sometimes, but. Whatever. "Keep your fucking dick in your pants and stay away from Kurt and we won't have a problem."_

_At the mention of his sexuality, Karofsky pales, but he keeps his voice bored. "I don't associate with fags. Fuck you, ladyboy." He turns and walks away, flipping Blaine off without looking back._

_Blaine punches the nearest locker, startling an unsuspecting freshman. Fuck it. He runs to find Kurt. They have training to do._

He doesn't notice the police officers until they pass him and walk into Kurt's room. He remembers the handcuffs on Kurt earlier, but had been too distracted with keeping Kurt coherent for the paramedics to yell at them. Why the fuck were they arresting Kurt, it was _Karofsky_, it was all Karofsky! Blaine clenches his fists, feeling his nails dig into the palms of his hands. There are some yells from Burt, and then the officers leave.

The next few hours pass in a daze, but Blaine doesn't even consider leaving. He can't. He failed Kurt once; he'll never do it again. Never. If Kurt still wants him.

Fuck, why does he always fuck everything up? His family; his friends; Kurt. His dad was so right, Blaine completely useless and weak. Shit, he wants a cig. He hears cries coming from Kurt's rooms and does everything in his power to not run inside. Kurt had a father that cared about him. Burt would take care of him a hell of a lot better than a fucking kid with too many piercings and a penchant for fighting and swearing ever could. Blaine stood up suddenly, limbs shaking from anger; fear; exhaustion; who the fuck knows. He wants to punch something. Instead, Blaine paces up and down the hallway, glaring at every pitying face.

"Blaine?"

His head snaps up. Burt is at Kurt's door, looking tired and haggard. Muffled sobs come from the room and Blaine feels his heart crack again. He just wants to be inside, filling his nose and his arms with _Kurt_, because Kurt is everything.

"You can go in, kid." Burt steps aside, and that's all the invitation Blaine needs before he practically runs into the room. Kurt's curled up on his bed, away from the door, and his body shakes. Blaine doesn't waste a second before he climbs up behind Kurt and buries his faces in Kurt's clean hair.

Beneath him, Kurt slowly stops shaking. He threads his fingers through Blaine's and sighs, tension draining.

Maybe he fucked up earlier, but Blaine is going to do whatever it takes to put a smile back on Kurt's face.

Even if that means setting him free.

Blaine holds Kurt tighter.

* * *

><p><strong>AN- **

**Thanks again for all the support! I love you guys! Also, feel free to hit me up on tumblr with prompts or just to talk, I love hearing from you guys!**


	15. Chapter 15

**AN-**

**The actual chapter! This is a little choppy. I'm sorry. I'm just making this up as I go, which is not a good to write. Yeah. Anyway, this is nice and semi-long so enjoy!**

**Warnings- depression, cursing, flashbacks to non-con, Blaine being awesome**

* * *

><p>The interviews are the worst.<p>

Kurt gets driven to the police station and placed in the interview room. It's nothing like Law and Order. There's windows, but they're just covered in old blinds. The floor is carpeted with a dull grey, giving the whole room a depressing atmosphere. Kurt sits sullenly in one of the old plastic chairs as he waits. A uniformed officer waits by the door to make sure he doesn't run.

Like he'd go anywhere; honestly. Burt waits outside; Blaine's in another room getting interviewed as well. Finn already gave his statement. The night he came home from the station, he hadn't looked at Kurt at all. Kurt wasn't sure if he was upset or relieved about it. Maybe Finn had realized all the ways he'd let Kurt down. The way the whole club let him down. Detective Adler mentioned that DeCarlo (her partner; _that's_ his name) was at McKinley. Kurt wonders what the students there have to say.

_Yeah, Kurt got pushed around a lot. He wore some crazy outfits. Once he had a corset on. And a kilt. The jocks slushied him every other day. I thought everything stopped with Blaine. I couldn't do anything. That's the way things are._

He picks at a stray thread on his hoodie. It's Blaine's, an old Ohio State one. He'd brought it over when Kurt mentioned he was still having nightmares. They're not as bad when he can wake up wrapped in Blaine.

Detective Adler comes in and Kurt sighs. He's going to lose it by the end. Just like the last two sessions. He watches dully as she sets up the video camera, ignores her sympathetic eyes.

Kurt closes his eyes and breaths. Then begins to tell the unforgiving lens his story. He's spent so many years and months hiding himself the bullying that talking about it was like reliving it all over again. The pain, the fear, the hurt. Unclothing himself for the entire fucking world.

He's never felt more naked.

* * *

><p>Burt won't let Kurt stay home alone with all the media on their front lawn, so a police officer stays with Kurt during the day while everyone else is at work or school. They have to pay for the lawyer somehow. Officer Hoshino is a young, Japanese man of twenty-three, with an easy smile and bright eyes. His first name is Jon. When Blaine skips school, Hoshino allows him inside without a fuss. And doesn't tell Burt.<p>

Kurt likes Officer Hoshino.

He's the one that lets Rachel in three days after the locker room.

Like the past several days, Kurt is holed up in his room. His hair is wet from another shower and he's stolen another one of Blaine's shirts and hoodies. He hasn't moisturized in days. Kurt swallows back another pill from the psychiatrist. He doesn't really care.

Rachel finds him on his bed, staring at the ceiling.

She knocks hesitantly before stepping inside. "Hi," she says quietly.

Kurt doesn't answer her. Rachel, bless her, bravely walks over to him, head down and fingers white around the strap of her bag. Kurt takes a second to glance at her. For once, he didn't want to burn everything she was wearing. Her pea coat was a sensible dark blue instead of the bright pink she's drawn to and her shoes were simple and classic Mary Janes. It was probably a good thing he couldn't see her sweater though.

"I just wanted to…um." Rachel can barely get the words out and when Kurt looks at her, there are tears in her eyes. "I'm just—I'm _so_ sorry, Kurt." There it was. The pity he was so afraid of. This was why he hadn't seen anyone from the Glee Club since he got home. Blaine told them all to piss off, but naturally Rachel would be the one to ignore it. Damn her.

"Rachel, believe me," Kurt starts, "our fight has honestly been the last thing on my mind. Forget about it. It's fine." He grabs his phone and opens up Angry Birds. Her eyes water and Kurt ignores the tight feeling in his chest because he _will not_ let her see him cry. He won't. His finger shakes and the stupid bird flies backwards.

"Kurt, stop that!" Rachel snaps. She stamps her foot, shocking Kurt into looking at her. Anger was not something he was expecting to see.

"What—"

"Stop pushing everyone away like that!" Rachel crosses her arms and looks down at her feet, voice choked. "The detectives came to talk to us yesterday." She whispers. "They asked us all these questions about you and Karofsky. And…and I realized." Kurt can't speak, can't meet her eyes. Big and brown and wet. Too full of emotion, because Rachel Berry feels _everything _and Kurt is so fucking tired of feeling anything at all.

Kurt shuts his phone off.

"I realized how much of a shitty friend I've been to you. We all have." Rachel sniffed. "And—and I'm really, really sorry. You didn't deserve any of it."

"You can sit down." Kurt sits up and waves at his bed. His head is fuzzy; he wasn't really expecting this rush of emotions today. Rachel perches carefully on the edge near the foot of the bed, like she thinks Kurt's going to throw her out at any second.

He's not; he knows when her apologies are truthful. And he meant what he said earlier. Their stupid fight was just that—a stupid fight because Kurt is vindictive and Rachel is selfish. They are kids. They're allowed to hurt each other and make up later.

He's been over the Glee club for months. He has Blaine. They're sweet and crazy and imperfect, and Kurt learned not to expect too much from them from the very beginning. It's what made the bullying so easy to hide.

"Rachel," Kurt grabs her hands. It's Blaine's fault; he just really likes holding hands now. It's such a simple way to reach someone. Rachel smiles softly, but a few tears leak out. "I promise I'm not mad. I hid stuff from you guys for years. It isn't your fault. I never expected you guys to notice anything. Or do something. Okay?" Rachel nods but her face crumples and Kurt takes a chance and hugs her. He keeps expecting a flashback but Rachel's frame is so much smaller than his and she has a fragrant perfume on and his body remembers _Rachel_ and he holds it together until she pulls away. She squeezes his hands.

"You know it's not your fault either, right?" Rachel says gently. Kurt nods, but doesn't believe her. It may not be his fault, but it sure as hell feels like it. Thankfully, Rachel drops it. "Do you know what's going to happen to Israel for posting that video?"

Jesus, one sore subject to another. Kurt glares and drops his head. "I think he might be charged with some breach of privacy laws. I don't know." He picks at his comforter moodily. The video was taken down after a few hours, but it still went viral. Fucking Jacob.

"Blaine punched the shit out him the other day." Rachel grins. "It was great, Jacob almost peed himself when he saw Blaine storming at him down the hallway."

The mental picture is easy to imagine. The meaner part of him takes some pleasure in seeing Jacob cowering in fear against the lockers. "That sounds like Blaine." He smiles faintly. "Can we just—talk about something else?" Kurt pleads. "I just need something normal right now…" his voice trails off.

Rachel gets it. She unbuttons her coat and Kurt was right, the sweater has a unicorn on it for some reason and he still wants to burn it, but then Rachel plugs her iPod into Kurt's speakers and her Broadway playlist turns on. The showtunes wash over Kurt and Rachel starts gossiping about McKinley, which is still insane even though he's stuck at home and Kurt forgets his life for a little while. Rachel is useful like that.

* * *

><p>"Karofsky's awake," Blaine says as a greeting as he throws his ratty backpack and jacket into the corner and flops down on Kurt's bed. He watches Kurt, laid back against the pillows, with narrowed eyes. "You're not surprised." Blaine states.<p>

"The detectives came by earlier." Kurt doesn't open his eyes. It's too exhausting. "He's supposed to rest today and then they're going to interview and arrest him tomorrow." He tonelessly recites what Detective Adler told him that morning with a slight bitter note. Karofsky was awake after four days in a coma, and now the real fun would begin. The media vans had already started to congregate again.

He should care. Feel relief that he's not actually a murder. But he can't even bring himself to look at his damn closet, raiding his father and step-brother's clothes for baggy shirts and loose sweatpants, all the while hearing Karofsky's whispers of _fucking tease _in his ears. Not to mention that Kurt's gotten even jumpier and more volatile now that he knows Karofsky is still alive. Because he can come back now and finish the job; finish what he started in the damn locker room.

It's stupid, Kurt _knows_ Karofsky is in no condition to even tie his own damn shoelaces, let alone attack a gay kid in his own house, but Kurt's never been quite rational where the jock is concerned.

So he pushes his fears back and puts on a brave face.

And changes the subject.

"Detective Adler convinced the judge I wasn't a flight risk, though." Kurt wiggles his bare ankle up in the air.

Blaine grins. "Oh damn, I was just telling everyone about my delinquent boyfriend this morning. They were all properly intimidated too. Now you don't even have an ankle monitor? Lame."

Snorting, Kurt kicks out at Blaine's leg. He misses, but Blaine scoots up close, using Kurt's bicep as a pillow. The touch is like fire, spreading warmth and emotion and _feeling_ through his veins and Kurt can't breathe, can't _think_, not with Blaine so close and unafraid and relaxed. It's loving and safe and Blaine, Kurt's heart knows, but his brain screams and his body hates the feeling of skin against it and the ghost of sweat and huge and fear press over Kurt and blocks out _Blaine_ and Kurt can't handle it. His chest heaves, shuddery and tight, and Blaine backs off.

"Too much?"

Kurt's throat closes up but he nods; eyes hot with unshed tears. He's been like this since the attack, just hot and cold when it came to _touches_ and it has to be driving Blaine crazy. It has to.

What good is a boyfriend that can barely handle a fucking hug?

He hides his face in his hands. "I'm sorry."

An angry growl. Hands tug his arms down and Kurt sees Blaine's dark expression. "Jesus, Kurt. You have to stop apologizing for shit that's not your fault." Blaine's shoulders bunch up, tense with repressed fury. Not at Kurt, at everything else.

"I'm—"

"Fucking in love with my awesome boyfriend, right?" A surprised laugh bursts through Kurt's lips at Blaine's cheeky grin. He shakes his head, but pulls Blaine back down. There's an inch between them and Kurt ignores how it feels like a cavern.

"Yeah, I am," he whispers.

"Me too."

They're quiet, just lying on the bed, two fucked up gay teenage boys. Blaine lets one hand drift close to Kurt's, and Kurt tries to work up the courage to take it. Just fingers, it's _just_ fingers, Karofsky isn't here and Kurt just wants that looming specter the hell out of his bedroom because this is _his_, just _KurtandBlaine_. Karofsky has no fucking place there.

The pills the doctors prescribe mess with his emotions and Kurt suddenly shakes with _angerfurydefiance_ and he's leaning over, catching Blaine off guard and capturing Blaine's lips and swallowing Blaine's surprised _Kurt?_

His hands tangle in Blaine's curls and he can smell the leather and tobacco and Blaine's mouth moves with his instinctively and it's good, _so_ good, fucking fantastic, really, and then Blaine groans with pleasure and Kurt freezes as images run across his eyes.

_Hand on his shoulder mouth over his, sucking out his breath and forcing a tongue inside, can't breathe can't control fear scared help me please please no can't breathe hurts it hurts stop STOP_

Kurt pulls off with a sharp sob, backing off and away and shaking. Actually _shaking_, he can't get his hands to stop trembling long enough to wipe his face. Blaine just stares for a few seconds; hair mussed and lips kiss-red, purple V-neck askew. He looks thoroughly debauched and Kurt's stomach lurches.

"I'm—" Kurt cuts himself off. Blaine's face is more confused and worried than angry, but still. No need to add to it. "You don't deserve this." Kurt says quietly.

Blaine sits up, crossing his legs. He watches Kurt tug at his own t-shirt and sweatpants. They're Finn's, they're much too big, and Kurt knows Blaine notices. The look in his eye suggests he knows what they mean.

Too open, Kurt feels too open, like none of his secrets are safe, is this what being in love is like? Being totally vulnerable to someone else, someone that could crush you with a few words?

Blaine opens his mouth, but Kurt doesn't want to hear it and slides off the bed. He grabs Blaine's discarded jacket and roots through the pockets. Blaine doesn't stop him.

Tissues, a broken pencil, some loose change, a rusty pocket knife and a key chain in the shape of a bottle opener. Fuck. Kurt stares at the mismatched pile on his floor, then grabs Blaine's school bag. They have to be in here. Before he can open it, though, a hand gently tugs the bag away.

"What are you looking for?" Blaine asks.

Kurt grabs the bag back, unzipping it with more force than necessary. "Smokes," he says shortly. The open pocket only has a few notebooks and some pens. Kurt mores on to the smaller front packet. "Where the hell are they?" Kurt growls, hands still trembling. Cigarettes calm people down, right? That's what he needs. To calm down. To stop feeling. Relax.

"I don't smoke."

Kurt looks up.

"What?"

Shifting to a more comfortable position on the floor Blaine shrugs. His knees draw up to his chest and one hand fingers his earrings. "I don't smoke. Not anymore." Blaine avoids Kurt's eyes.

But how… "You smell like smoke." Kurt says slowly. "Every time you hug me, you smell like tobacco." _It's nice. Familiar. You._

"Well, I've been doing it for a while." Blaine tugs on the ring in his earlobe. "Probably can't get it out of my coat, you know?" Kurt just nods and Blaine studies the ground. "I've never tasted like cigs though, right?" His voice is hesitant and embarrassed.

That was true. In all of their kisses (_Blaine hasn't initiated one, none since Karofsky, why, why, because you're dirty and weak) _Blaine has never actually tasted like tobacco. Just coffee and chewing gum mint and Blaine. He'd never questioned it. But he'd seen Blaine smoke before. Before they'd become friends.

"I quit pretty soon after I met you." Blaine interrupts Kurt's thoughts. "When I found out you were a singer. 'S'not good for me anyway. Or you." He still doesn't look at Kurt and his cheeks blush faintly. It's how Blaine gets when he's trying not to show he cares that much. "It's not a big deal." He mutters and Kurt just wants to hold him and smile and show Blaine that _yeah_, it's big deal; Blaine changed one of his more destructive habits for Kurt without any help or encouragement. All because he didn't want Kurt to be around smoke.

_Kiss him, kiss him!_ half of Kurt's brain screams while the other half freezes in fear. Blaine's shoulders hunch, like he's readying himself for rejection. He can't, just can't, make himself meet Blaine's lips, so he grabs Blaine's hand and squeezes.

_Safe._

"Thank you." Kurt voice is tiny, but the resulting grin from Blaine is sweet. He deserves _so_ much better than Kurt. "I'm…um." Kurt hesitates.

"I know." Blaine smiles crookedly. "It's ok, Kurt. I know. We're gonna be alright."

God, Kurt wants to believe him.

"I want us to be." He admits. And then Blaine's arms wind around his back, gripping Kurt tight and Kurt's face is in Blaine's shoulder and he only feels protected and loved and invincible.

* * *

><p><strong>AN-<strong>

**Thanks again for all the support and reviews and favorites! I really appreciate everyone taking the time to read this little story. =]**


	16. Chapter 16

**Warnings- Language, depression, really bad therapy because the last time I had to go to a therapist it was because I didn't sleep well and she told me to "access a file of something soothing in my mind to relax me" It didn't go well.**

* * *

><p>The fifth time Kurt wakes his father (and the whole house, actually) up screaming is the last straw.<p>

He'd been so far gone he even punched Finn in the face when his stepbrother tried to restrain him. Then almost hit Carole. Burt sits Kurt down the next morning and lays down the ultimatum, with Finn awkwardly holding an icepack to his rapidly forming black eye. Kurt might feel guilty, except he's too pissed at himself for losing control like this. But he's going to therapy and he doesn't have a choice.

His dad says it's not because he's crazy, but it really kind of is. Sane people don't scream bloody murder every time their heads hit the pillow or attack their own family. He stomps around the rest of the day, barely even talking to Blaine.

The therapist's office is clean and smells like lavender and vanilla. She spends the first fifteen minutes waiting for Kurt to speak. Kurt spends it silently judging her. She's older, maybe in her fifties, and wears a plaid shirt with loose jeans. Her grey hair is in a braid that falls over her shoulder and her black glasses make her look wise and trustworthy.

Dr. Englund is really nice, if Kurt was being honest with himself. Which he wasn't. At all. Kurt moodily glares at the dark brown carpet.

"How have you been sleeping, Kurt?" She asks gently.

Kurt glares and picks at his jeans. Like she doesn't already know. They're the baggiest ones he owns.

"Your shirt should be burnt. Flannel is not attractive on anyone. And the mom-jeans went out of style like twenty years ago. Also your hair looks like shit and makes you seem a hell of a lot older and more unattractive than you really are." He snaps. "Didn't being a professional teach you anything? Or did you crawl out from the Stone Age just for crazy me?" Dr. Englund raises her eyebrows, amused. She actually doesn't look that bad. Maybe like a badass grandma. Blaine would like her. He's waiting outside the room. That was the one concession Kurt managed.

"I quite like my shirt." Dr. Englund replies smoothly. She uncrosses her legs and Kurt leans back into the plush chair. He will never admit it, but he's sulking. He can't help it. He's cried for so long over the past week that he's just _angry_ now, lashing out at everyone. Rachel's left his room in tears more than once, and even Blaine yelled at him for sniping at Carole the other day. Kurt really kind of doesn't give a shit because everything in his life is so fucking _unfair_ he thinks he deserves a little self-pity at this point.

"You're not too fashionable right now either, Kurt. Why would you say that is?"

_Because my fashion is what got me attacked and almost raped, you miserable bitch!_ Kurt screams internally. Aloud, he only grunts and studies the wallpaper. It's striped, with alternating muted greens.

Dr. Englund nods slightly. "You're very angry."

"What gave me away?" Kurt scoffs bitterly. This was not his fault. It wasn't.

He didn't ask to be attacked.

He didn't ask to be arrested.

He didn't ask to be scared all the fucking time and he _definitely_ didn't ask for the nightmares.

It just wasn't fucking fair.

His life was just coming together; why did it have to fall apart like this?

_Except is IS your fault, you idiot, you moron, you offered yourself up on a silver platter, and now you're dragging everyone down with you. You think Blaine deserves this? Deserves a boyfriend that calls him crying every night and then makes him drive across Lima just for you when you won't even put out like every other boy? Does your father deserve to listen to people talk about his psycho gay son everywhere he goes, like he fucked up raising you when really, you've been flawed from the start? It's all YOUR FAULT, YOUR FAULT—_

Kurt's eyes burn and his throat tightens and his vision goes watery but _he won't fucking cry, he's not a weakling!_ He keeps his eyes trained on his knees.

There's shifting, then Dr. Englund sighs. "What do you know about the charges against you?" Kurt looks up at the question. Calmly, she meets his surprised gaze.

"Um," Kurt says. He tries to remember what the detectives said the night before. They had looked exhausted and worried. "Karofsky's parents have been keeping the police away, saying he's not ready and still recovering. Detective Adler thinks he remembers everything, though. He had looked scared when she tried to talk to him." Kurt took a deep breath. "Their lawyer said something about accepting the simple assault charges if I left out the—the s-s-sexual," Kurt stumbles over the word, but Dr. Englund just nods encouragingly, "assault part. And the hate crime part. And they won't pursue assault charges against me for putting him in a coma." Kurt's voice is hollow.

"Do you know what you want to do?"

"Detective Adler said—"

"Kurt," Dr. Englund interrupts firmly. "What do _you_ want?"

It's the first time someone's asked him. What _does_ he want? Kurt thinks about how scared Karofsky looked right before the locker room. He thinks about how terrified he was when Karofsky had him pinned.

He thinks about what Karofsky looked like, loaded up on the gurney with a halo of red around his face and oxygen mask over his mouth. About what his own chest looks like and the yellowing hickey on the side of his neck that's still going strong after a week and how he still can't take a deep breath without pain shooting through his ribs.

He could very possibly end up in jail. Karofsky might not, not if this goes to trial. But a trial would mean everything comes out, and that means outing Karofsky and Kurt knows just how vicious McKinley can be.

Kurt wants Karofsky to suffer.

But he doesn't want to be like him.

"I don't know," Kurt says honestly.

Dr. Englund just nods.

* * *

><p>"I talked to Karofsky today."<p>

"You did _what?_" Kurt stares at Blaine, who shrugs nonchalantly as he walks into Kurt's room, eating a chocolate chip cookie. Kurt has a lot of free time on his hand, and well. They were running out of Tupperware containers now. "Stop eating the damn cookie. Why would you do that Blaine?" Kurt's voice gets loud. He's not entirely sure why he's so mad about Blaine going to the hospital and confronting his attack, except he kind of is.

Karofsky is still _unknown_ and _dangerous_, even handcuffed to a bed and with half his skull caved in. Words can hurt just as much as fists.

Like the complete _moron_ he is, Blaine ignores Kurt's glare and stuffs the rest of the cookie into his stupid mouth. "Wens' oor nes' tera pee app'nent?" He says through the crumbs and Kurt rolls his eyes.

"Sometimes, I think you were raised in a barn," Kurt mutters, tossing Blaine his half-empty water bottle. Blaine just grins and takes a swig, burping loudly.

"I said, 'when's your next therapy appointment?' I want to make sure I can drive you." Even though Blaine is an absolute idiot, he does care.

The stress ball is on his bed, and Kurt picks it up instead of answering. It's bright green and squishy. Dr. Englund thought it might help his anxiety and Kurt squeezes it over and over, but the tension doesn't really fade. "Next Tuesday," he says. Then narrows his eyes. "Why'd you go see…him." He can't say his name. Can't.

Blaine holds out his hand and Kurt tosses him the ball. He's quiet for a while as he plays with it, changing it from hand to hand.

Something pricks at Kurt's memory. "Wait, doesn't he have a guard? I thought they weren't letting in visitors. Finn said he heard Azimio complaining about it." Kurt almost groans aloud at Blaine's sudden smirk.

"I may or may not have distracted the nurses and police by unplugging the heart monitor in Room 412 and had Puck raise a stink by yelling at the doctors for fifteen minutes." And Blaine looks _entirely_ too smug and proud of himself, the delinquent.

"_Blaine_, Christ." Kurt has no words, so just settles for sending Blaine a very judgmental stare. He needs to head off that friendship; it can go nowhere good. He sighs. "Blaine, you really didn't have to—"

"Yeah I did." Blaine interrupts. He becomes very interested in his fingers. "It's my fault, you know." The words come out like it physically hurts Blaine, like they claw their way out his throat.

"What is?" Kurt's voice is a whisper. He thinks he knows what Blaine's talking about.

_"He's not gonna save you. I know you told him. About me."  
>"I…didn't…"<br>"LIAR! He told me!"_

Blaine has always blamed himself for things beyond his control because he's got a heart of gold like that. It's just that not many people get to see it; being blinded by the leather and the piercings and the lack of a brain-to-mouth filter. Gathering up his courage, Kurt sits down and tugs Blaine into a hug. He's better with contact now, though just with Blaine and sometimes Rachel. Finn still sends him into panic attacks with just a shoulder pat. "What did he say to you?" Kurt asks, and Blaine pulls him closer, arms wrapped around his waist. He won't look at Kurt.

"That I should have known." Blaine says, muffled by Kurt's t-shirt covered shoulder. "I should have known what he was close to doing and stopped him first. That he couldn't stop himself, and it was _my _responsibility to protect you, and I failed, and _fuck_, Kurt, _he's right,_ he's _so right_, I'm so fucking _useless,_" and Blaine cuts himself off with a short gasp and the stress ball falls to the floor with a soft thump as he clenches his fists against Kurt's back.

For the first time, Kurt thinks about how Karofsky's attack hurt more people than just himself.

Then he kind of wants to smack himself, because his boyfriend's been dealing with this misplaced guilt for over a week while letting Kurt just walk all over him. And scream at him a couple of times, because the medicines makes his mood swings just _awful_, but Blaine just takes it because he thinks he deserves it and he really, really doesn't.

"I'm not a princess." Kurt tells Blaine, but it really feels like he's talking to himself. "I don't need rescuing."

"Kurt—"

"No, I need to get this out." Kurt takes a second to _breathe_ because everything is suddenly crystal clear and he's realizing a lot of things he should have thought about days ago. Things about himself and Blaine and Karofsky and how they're all tied together, and some of what Dr. Englund and he dad have been saying starts to sink in.

It's exhilarating.

"I don't blame you for anything." Kurt ignores Blaine's soft _you should_ because Blaine's an idiot and not in charge of Kurt's feelings anyway. "I don't want to blame myself, either." Anger bristles up through his skin. "I…I know what K-K-Karofsky did to me wasn't my fault. The _gay-panic _defense he's trying to hide behind is absolute _bullshit_; I don't care _what_ Bill O'Reilly thinks; he shouldn't have done what he did, and you weren't responsible for his actions." There's a foul taste in his mouth when Kurt remembers hearing the news the other night, coming down after his father began screaming at the TV about _idiot newscasters who wouldn't know justice or common decency if they took a crap on their noses_. It was Karofsky's own fucked up head and no one else. "You're not responsible for _me_," and it's wonderful and _freeing_ to think about the attack like this, like it was just something that happened because some asshole didn't have the self-control to not try to rape someone else. "We can argue for days about how I should have told someone sooner _like you wanted,_" and Blaine makes a face, but keeps quiet, "and how the administration should have stopped the bullying from the very beginning and how I should have worn looser clothes, but that just masks the real problem."

"I like your tight pants." Blaine says, because he likes it when Kurt laughs.

"I like them too." The jeans he has on now are too loose, and Kurt really hopes he can find the courage to wear his new ones tomorrow. He doesn't want to be afraid. "I didn't deserve what happened to me." Kurt says, surprised to find he halfway believes it for now.

Blaine looks Kurt up and down and cracks a small smile, hazel eyes holding something that might be pride. "You're amazing, you know that?"

_Of course I am,_ the old Kurt scoffs, but the real Kurt only squeezes Blaine's hands. "I'm saying this shit now," Kurt admits, "and I know it, I do, but I'm afraid I'm going to forget sometimes." Because knowing something and _believing_ something are completely different, and it's hard to remember that he deserves to be himself and wear his clothes and kiss his boyfriend when a few loudmouths scream that he's perverted and wrong and unnatural.

"That's what I'm for." Blaine rubs a hand down Kurt's arm, pouring in strength and confidence. "I mean." He falters, looking at Kurt nervously. "If you want me to be."

And Kurt sees that Blaine had been planning this conversation for days, mentally steeling himself for Kurt's inevitable blow-up and maybe break-up because Blaine really doesn't get how much Kurt loves him or how much he's saved Kurt. Over and over again. He just doesn't get it and Kurt kind of thinks it's Mr. Anderson's fault; Blaine's complete lack of self-confidence and overwhelming fear of abandonment.

He might be fucked up in more ways than one, but Kurt's not stupid enough to let Blaine go. Fuck the world, they deserve to be happy. Both of them. Together.

"Blaine." Kurt says, eyes like steel. He's never been so sure of anything in his life. "I'm never saying 'goodbye' to you."

The look of relief and love that washes over Blaine's face before he kisses Kurt is the best thing in the world, Kurt's pretty sure.

He won't let them go.

* * *

><p><strong>AN-**

**I figured it was time for some fluff. =] I'm sorry!**

**Anyway, thanks for all the reviews, favorites and alerts, I appreciate everyone taking the time to read this!**


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N-**

**And the worst timing ever award goes to...**

**Just..trust me. I'll try to get the next one up soon.**

**Warnings- homophobia, language, depression**

* * *

><p>It's not like Kurt means to eavesdrop. Not exactly.<p>

But sometimes that's the best way to find things out. Being "protected" for his own good was seriously getting old. He's a perfectly capable, if fragile, young man; and he's got to learn to live with what happened at some point. And his family needs to stop barely looking at him because every stupid flinch is not helping him forget the attack.

And so he finds himself sitting on the darkened stairs, listening to his dad and boyfriend talk around the corner in the kitchen as they assume he sleeps. He had a nightmare, actually, and was going downstairs to look for Blaine when he heard them. And sat down to hear.

The stairs are hard and uncomfortable, but Kurt doesn't really notice. He's had worse, after all.  
>His dad's gruff voice comes first.<p>

"I appreciate you coming out here, Blaine."

"It's not a problem," Blaine says. There's exhaustion in his voice and guilt twists Kurt's stomach. Blaine hasn't been home in a few days; instead staying the nights with Kurt. Which doesn't help either, since Kurt wakes him with either a scream or a punch. Blaine hasn't slept in days and it's Kurt's fault.

Kurt's a really awful boyfriend sometimes.

A mug clinks and a liquid gets poured. Coffee, Kurt thinks. He can smell it from the stairs. Even though it's already three in the morning. Kurt squeezes his fists. His father should be in bed. And not up worrying about him.

"Mr. Hummel," Blaine hesitates and Kurt imagines him chewing on his lip and tugging on his earrings, "About Kurt. I'm just...I'm sorry I didn't—"

His father laughs hollowly. Kurt's blood chills.

"Son, I think both you and I know what it's like to try to get Kurt to do something he doesn't want to do." Burt says dryly. "Coffee?"

"Yes, sir." Blaine whispers, and Kurt creeps down a stair. The carpet is thin and the edge digs into his ass, but he tries to slow his breathing so they won't hear him. Kurt's pretty sure some important things are going to be said.

Burt suddenly sighs. "Did Kurt ever tell you about how he came out?" He says conversationally.

Oh no. Kurt's cheeks flame red in the shadows.

"No," Blaine says, interested. "Just that he was really lucky you were supportive." Definitely a hint if jealousy. Kurt's muscles twitch, aching to run into the kitchen and hug him. Blaine doesn't deserve his family.

There's a faint _pop_ from a milk jar and the clink of the sugar bowl. Burt asks if Blaine wants any creamer, and Kurt mouths along with his refusal and request for cinnamon. Daily trips to the Lima Bean and all.

"He was so freakin' scared." Burt finally speaks. He seems to wait for something from Blaine, but then continues. "He'd just gotten back from winning the football game—he tell you that? He was the kicker for McKinley for a few games last year."

"Kurt's something else," Blaine chuckles, and Kurt thinks he hears awe. It feels good.

He rests his chin on his knees, remembering that night he came out to his father. Oh God, he'd been so fucking terrified. He wasn't stupid; he'd read stories in the news about kids kicked out of their houses or abandoned for being gay. Burt probably wasn't going to do any of that (he'd sat through tea parties, after all), but it didn't really matter. He'd cried so hard after from relief that he still had a father.

"Damn right." Burt agrees. A chair scrapes across the floor. "Anyway, he was sittin' at his mirror putting all kinds of crap on his face, and I told him I was proud of him. And then he told me." A long sigh. "'I'm gay,' he says. And I already knew. I told him I knew since he was three and wanted a pair of sensible heels for his birthday."

They laugh quietly and Kurt can't repress a smile. It sounds like something a young Kurt would say.

Burt wasn't done. "I'll never forget that look of fear on his face." Burt says hollowly. "He was so scared of me and what I'd do to him, and it broke my heart. I promised myself I'd never let him be that scared again, but..."

"I'm sorry." Blaine whispered.

Burt snorted. "You know, I was mad at you at first. I didn't trust you the first time I found you in my son's bed, but you made him happy so I let it go. I thought you'd be strong enough to protect him."  
>Kurt clenches his hands, feeling his nails dig into his palms. Didn't they realize that it wasn't their decision? Telling was Kurt's. Just Kurt's. He doesn't need to be <em>protected<em>.

"I thought I would be too." And the anguish in Blaine's voice simultaneously makes Kurt want to cry and punch Blaine in his big stupid face.

The next words help. "But Kurt's strong. He fought back." And yeah, there is definitely some pride there.

"That he did." Burt chuckles. Kurt is just wondering whether he should go back upstairs to wait for Blaine when Burt speaks again. "How's everything with your dad?"

Kurt freezes and suppresses a faint groan. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. He hasn't thought about Blaine's situation in days. Weeks. Blaine's been dealing with that shit alone; how? Why?

Hell, Kurt has no idea what's going on with Blaine. The last he heard was Mr. Anderson trying to prove Mary as an unfit mother and withholding child support. Which was back in January. Kurt presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. Blaine has to secretly hate him. Kurt's so fucking selfish.

"They're settling on Monday," Blaine mutters. "He's moving to California and they have joint custody until I'm eighteen." Blaine's voice is flat. "I'm going to stay with Mom most of the year, but they're switching off on holidays. He gets Easter." Blaine says bitterly. "We had to drop the abuse charges. Mom wouldn't testify and I wasn't enough."

Kurt's heart tightens.

"Kurt couldn't be a witness? He obviously knew about it..." Burt trails off.

The question throws Kurt off. Why didn't they ask him to testify? He would have. In a heartbeat.

"He only saw the bruises and cuts after. He could have testified, but they were already going to make me sound unreliable and then I could have lied to Kurt about who hurt me, and yeah." Blaine growls out. "Not many people would believe me over my father, not when my own mother won't back me up."

They're quiet.

"We used that to get the custody dispute resolved." Blaine admits. "A trial would have been unseemly for him anyway. And dropping the charges means I only have to see him five or six times instead of half the year. Less time for him to tell me what a disappointment and a failure of a son I am." The words are harsh and bitter.

"That's not right." Burt growls. "Fathers shouldn't hit their sons."

Blaine snorts. "And kids shouldn't hurt other kids."

They sit for a while, drinking their coffee. "I should—" Blaine stands abruptly, chair dragging across the tile. "I should go check on Kurt." His voice is choked, but Kurt's distracted, hurrying to get up and run back to his room as silently as possible.

He makes it under the covers a full two minutes before Blaine comes in and tries to relax his breathing enough to fake sleep. It's still dark, so that helps. Blaine pauses in the doorway before walking over to the bed. The mattress dips when Blaine sits behind him. "Kurt," Blaine whispers, but doesn't touch him; he knows better than that. An unintentional black eye would really suck.

Instead he lies back, stretched on top of the comforter, a good few inches between them. Kurt still faces the wall, though his eyes are wide and he's having trouble remembering to breathe. He wonders if Blaine notices.

"I know you forgive me," Blaine admits to the dark room. "But I don't forgive myself." He twists, moving the bed and then his warm breath tickles the back of Kurt's neck. "I'm so, _so_ sorry, Kurt."

It's more than probable Blaine knows he's awake, but Kurt can't move, can't speak. He'd thought everything was ok, but it's not, it's really not. And it sucks.

Kurt doesn't answer him.

* * *

><p>The day Kurt goes back to school is a week and half after <em>the incident. <em>Figgins lifted the suspension for some inane reason, and Kurt's not questioning it. He was beginning to go crazy in his house.

But school will give him the chance to try to get back to normal. And Dr. Englund feels like Kurt is ready for it. Which he is. Ready for it. As soon as he can get his hands to let go of the steering wheel. He takes a deep breath, lets it out. A few people are already glancing over at his unsubtle car, but Kurt forces himself to just _breathe._ Mechanically, he gets the door open and walks quickly towards the large building, trying not to think about how close the locker room is. It's an early February morning, with a clear blue sky and crisp chill in the air. He wears a thick scarf and his favorite black coat, but with jeans that are decidedly looser than typical before the attack.

He's trying.

Kurt makes Blaine wait for him inside. He has to do this for himself. Prove that they can't touch him. That he's not helpless. So he walks through the doors and down the halls, head high and expression aloof, ignoring the whispers and the stares. It's hard. All those _looks _and glares and silent judgments. When he finally makes it to his locker, Kurt has to fight his knees to stay upright against the prying eyes of strangers. But Blaine's there.

"Glee's after school today." Blaine says lightly, though he watches Kurt get his books with careful eyes. "Rachel planned a welcome back thing for you. Figured you would want a warning." Blaine made a face, wrinkling his nose.

God love her, but sometimes Rachel doesn't know the meaning of "laying low." Kurt really just wants to survive the day. Calling attention to himself is so not in the plan.

"I don't really..." Kurt trails off, biting his lip. He's not sure if he can deal with the glee club yet. They're a little…much, sometimes.

"How about _Freddy vs. Jason_ and a whole cheesecake?" Blaine grins.

Kurt smiles weakly. "Thanks. That sounds perfect."

The day passes slowly. Kurt has to fight the urge to bolt in every class because the students just _stare_; don't they know that's rude? But he's making it through and no one's really talked to him except Mercedes and Rachel and Blaine and they try to stick to neutral subjects. Kurt's grateful.

The peace lasts until lunch.

Kurt's snickering at Blaine, who has somehow managed to get ketchup on his nose. He'd been waving his arms and trying to make a point to Finn about the Buckeyes when he hit his tray with his hand. Sulking, Blaine is letting Kurt try to clean him off with a napkin when loud voice cut across the cafeteria din.

"Yo, Anderson, ain't you scared the fairy's gonna scream rape when he's done with you?"

The chatter dies off and Kurt cannot move. _What?_ Of all the things he thought the students believed of him, that was a new one. _They think I faked it. _A low growl from Blaine snaps him out of his trance and Kurt grips his arm hard and pins his boyfriend to the seat. Blaine's face is dark with fury and he glares at the jock table, where Azimio glares right back, but smugly.

The air feels heavy and charged with tension and Kurt just needs to be gone, but coming to school was about facing his fears and he'll be damned if he's going to run away now. This is just…really unexpected. So instead, Kurt focuses on trying to make sure Blaine doesn't get expelled because judging by the look on Blaine's face? He's not too concerned about that.

"How about you say that again?" Blaine snarls and stands up, ignoring Kurt's desperate attempts to keep him quiet. "C'mon, Z, got something to say to my face, dickhead?" And then Blaine, oh Christ is marching over to the jocks and the Glee club kids just watch in silence so it's up to Kurt to make sure his boyfriend doesn't die before seventeen.

Kurt jogs next to Blaine and tries to pull him back because they'll kill him; they really will; why doesn't Blaine get that? "Blaine, let it go, it doesn't matter," Kurt mutters, flushed with fear and embarrassment. He just needs to get through the day; Kurt really can't care about what these assholes think about him. Karosky was one of them, they had to think like this; they can't think of him as the villain. "Blaine!"

But Blaine's in one of his "protector" moods; the kind that reminds Kurt of a big dog pissing on a tree to mark its territory and a flood of anger _rushes_ through Kurt's body so fast he nearly trips as he follows Blaine to the jocks. He's not a fucking tree.

Azimio, the great, big, hulk of a boy built like a linebacker, towers over Blaine. His arms are crossed and he's flanked by two equally large football players, both of whom eye Kurt with a mixture of loathing, fear and disgust. It's eerily like how Karofsky used to watch him and Kurt represses a shudder.

"Blaine, come on, please, let's go," Kurt pleads and pulls on the leather jacket, but Blaine only spares him a quick glance before planting himself in front of Azimio.

"Apologize to him." Blaine orders, eyes flashing, and Kurt has never felt more embarrassed in his life. He's like the little kid that hides behind the teacher when the big kids steal his crayons. An angry beast claws its way up Kurt's chest, but he stays silent. _I am NOT a damsel in distress, I can take care of myself!_

Azimio bursts out laughing. He elbows his friend, who cracks a grin, and Kurt tenses. Might as well give it another chance.

Kurt stands in front of Blaine, hands on his shoulders and catches Blaine's eyes. "Blaine. Please. Let's just go, they don't matter. They don't." _Please please please drop it_, he silently begs.

Blaine hesitates. His hazel eyes are still angry, but he rarely can resist Kurt when he asks for something. But Azimio can't let it go.

"Can't even control your little slut, can you, hobbit?" Azimio laughs cruelly, and Blaine sees Kurt freeze at the words, thrown back in a small flashback. _Slut, whore, bitch._ "Look at him; no wonder Karofsky got confused. Those giant-ass hips and tight as fuck pants fooled him. Ain't you supposed to be gay? What's up with the girl?" The taunts just kept coming until Kurt tunes them out, letting them become a dull roar. But Blaine's face gets darker and darker and Kurt grabs his hand to hold him back but Blaine rips it away. And tackles Azimio to the ground with a primal yell.

Kurt can only stand there as all of his courage and cautious optimism he's so carefully built up gets torn down in seconds.

* * *

><p>He blindly tears through his house, eyes wet and breath hitching with the effort to not dissolve into tears and sobs and never move again. Kurt flies up the stairs, away from the anguished voice crying out for him to <em>wait<em>.

No.

He so done waiting.

Kurt stands in the middle of his room and Blaine's right behind him.

"Kurt, come on, look at me—"

"Shut. Up. Just—just shut up. I don't want to talk to you." Kurt glares at the boy in front of him. He wants to rage and scream but—not yet. He should calm down. Blood still races in his veins though, and Kurt's limbs shake with fury.

Blaine falls silent and sits on his bed, watching Kurt pace. His leg bounces up and down and he crosses his arms, glowering at the floor in the silence. Seconds tick by and Kurt's still pissed.

So many fucking emotions. Anger, mostly. But also shame and embarrassment. A lot of it is shame. What happened in the lunch room…everyone saw it. Saw Kurt couldn't even stand up for himself. Just let his boyfriend take the punches. Literally. Blaine's cheek is already swollen and red and there's a small cut about his eyebrow where Azimio's ring scraped him. His white shirt is smeared with dirt and blood and Kurt is just so _furious_.

"How could you do that to me?" Kurt rounds on Blaine, whose eyes widen in surprise. "What the _fuck_ were you thinking?! Blaine! Why would you do that?!"

"I thought," Blaine grits out, eyes narrowed and fists clenched, "I was protecting you."

"I don't need your protection!" Kurt yells. And God, it feels good. "I don't! I can take care of myself! This is _my_ responsibility; not yours; and not Dad's either, for that matter! Mine! So back the hell off!"

Blaine stands up and Kurt's shocked at how someone so small can seem so large. Vibrating slightly, Blaine opens his mouth and closes it, then seems to decide to hell with it. "I'm trying to _help _you, Kurt, what the fuck is wrong with you?!" Blaine shouts. His eyes blaze and Kurt is seized with an overwhelming urge to slap him. He quells it. Barely.

"Would you like a list?" Kurt says, voice dripping with sarcasm. To his credit, Blaine blushes, but keeps up the furious expression. Kurt begins ticking off finger by finger. "Well, I am clinically depressed, stressed beyond belief, suffering from PTSD, haven't slept a night through in a week and a half, my ribs still hurt when I do _anything_, my medication means I can go from numb as a rock to being worse than Rachel on her period, and I can barely take a hug from my boyfriend without crying!"Kurt's voice is raised by the end. "Not to mention, I have self-esteem and body issues and oh! Let's not forget the fact I was suicidal a few weeks ago too!" Kurt laughs, bitter and cynical. "That's me; Kurt Hummel! Self-proclaimed gay, probable psycho, and emotionally volatile from being almost raped!" He spreads his arms wide and Blaine scowls

"Azimio was insulting you. And it was hurting you." He says defensively. Kurt hears the ice in the words, but he's too far gone to care. "You're overreacting, Kurt, shut up!"

"Oh, for Christ's sake, Blaine; I hear that kind of shit every day." Kurt hisses. He almost can't speak, but the words claw their way out. "Every day! I knew they wouldn't ever be able to see me as a human being and whatever, I have two more years here and I'm gone. _They don't matter_. But you, Blaine," Kurt jabs him with a sharp finger, "_you_ do. I need you to _trust_ me, and not treat me like I'm china! I need you to not get thrown in jail and ruin your life for me! I need to not be a victim to you!" Kurt cuts himself off and hugs his middle. Tears threaten but he pushes them back.

Blaine breathes heavily, and looks so _hurt_ and _betrayed _Kurt wants to groan. But he's silent. Blaine rubs his face and looks all around the room, shifting from foot to foot in an effort to stall. Kurt braces himself.

Shit is definitely hitting the fan now.

"It's just detention, Kurt."Blaine says tightly.

"You're an idiot." Kurt tells him, because _that is so not the point_. He had needed to prove to himself he can stand on his own two feet, that Karofsky hadn't broken him completely. But Blaine running in with fists ruins everything. Makes him that weak victim again in front of _everyone_. But Kurt can't put this in words; can't order his own thoughts past _so fucking angry_ that his kicks at his vanity chair. Finn had totally lied; that did not make him feel better and only smashed his toes. Kurt falls to his bed hissing a loud curse as he clutches his foot.

"Well I'm sorry I tried to defend your honor." Blaine snaps out, arms crossed. "I won't make that mistake again."

"You know _damn well_ that's not why I'm pissed!' Kurt feels like tearing out his hair in frustration. "_Fuck_, Blaine!"

"Why are you yelling at me?!"

"Because you're pissing me off!"

Blaine matches his glare and Kurt's pretty sure he's never seen Blaine angrier. Not even when he was sitting in Figgins' office and getting assigned detention for a week while Azimio walked out scot-free.

The air feels like one spark could send the whole thing up. Anger warps the air and twists around them, and Kurt knows he can't be around Blaine. Not right now. Later. But not…now.

"Maybe you should go, Blaine." Kurt finally gets out. He just can't stand Blaine right now, can't deal with being a fucking victim all the time. Can't handle Blaine looking at him and only seeing _the attack_ and not _Kurt_.

But Blaine's face turns darker and there's a flash of pain and hurt before it's wiped blank. "I guess I should." He says, and the words hang heavy between them. "I won't bother you anymore." Blaine meets Kurt's gaze evenly, though his chest heaves, like he's trying not to cry.

_What?_ "What?" Kurt looks at him stupidly. The way Blaine is looking at him makes him think there is so much more behind what he said, but he can't quite…see it.

Blaine rolls his eyes and scoffs. "Bye, Hummel." He says flatly. Kurt just sits, dazed, as Blaine turns his back and walks out his door. He hasn't moved when a faint slam echoes through the house.

Kurt's pretty sure he's just fucked up everything and his chest tightens.

Shit.

* * *

><p><strong>AN-**

**I wrote most of this over the weekend while I had no internet and I completely did not foresee last night. I promise I know what I'm doing. Just trust me!**

**There's a small drabble on my tumbler (center-of-the-storm) about Blaine making Kurt listen to Death Cab. So check it out =] Fluffy prompts would be awesome right now, just fyi.**

**Thanks for reading as always!**


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N-**

**As an apology for that cliffhanger, here's 6k worth of plot! Yeah this chapter go away from me and a lot of stuff happens. Forgive me any legal fail, I tried. And actually researched a little. Thanks again for reading and reviewing and favoriting, I appreciate everything! Don't forget to find me on tumblr, though that's mostly me complaining about how bad I am at writing. Ho hum. Anyway, enjoy!**

* * *

><p>When Burt comes to get Kurt for dinner, he finds his son sketching in one of his many drawing books. Kurt doesn't even look up at his father's knock, just shakes his head when asked to come down for dinner. The lump in his throat is too big and speaking would only make him cry. Or scream in anger. Kurt's not sure which.<p>

"Thought Blaine would be here, where'd the kid go?" Burt asks, glancing around the room. Kurt flinches at the name, but shrugs sullenly. But Burt narrows his eyes. "Kurt." He watches Kurt sternly.

"He left." Kurt snaps out. His eyes burn but Kurt just swallows hard and glares at the paper in front of him. He's been drawing Blaine, rough approximations of his hair; jacket; arms; eyes. The pencil shakes in his hand and a thick black line jolts across the page, cutting through a half-finished face. Blaine _left_.

Burt seems to sense something because he nods and goes back downstairs without another word. Back to Finn and Carol. The normal ones in his family.

God, Kurt's such a fuck-up he can't even be a good son. Or a good boyfriend.

Kurt's suddenly seized with rage; how _dare_ Blaine walk out like that, the bastard, and he rips the paper out of the notebook and tears it into little pieces, flinging the scraps across his bed like snow. Blaine is such an _idiot_; didn't he know Kurt just needed some time? He hadn't meant to say it like that; like he didn't want Blaine at all; because he _does_. Blaine's…Blaine.

And Blaine's gone.

He can't stop the tears anymore.

Later, when the room has grown dark and Kurt's stomach has finally stopped rumbling, Burt slips in. He flicks the light on and Kurt winces, on his side and turned away from the door. He doesn't look up when the bed dips and a careful hand pushes the hair off his face. No, the wall is much more interesting. And isn't judging him.

Burt clears his throat before speaking. "Do you want to talk, Kurt?" he asks, but Kurt can hear the resigned tone. He doesn't disappoint.

"No."

Snorting, Burt pulls his hand away. His gaze burns Kurt's shoulder and Kurt keeps his eyes averted. Not telling his father his problems is second nature now. It has been since his mother died and eight-year-old Kurt knew his father had bigger problems than his strange son getting picked on during recess.

For some reason, Burt doesn't leave it alone this time.

"Alright, that's enough." Burt says sternly. Kurt's brows furrow, then he's yanked upright and looking directly at his simultaneously nervous and annoyed father. Kurt watches with wide eyes as Burt fumbles for the right words. "I know we're not as…as close as we used to be," Burt starts, sighing. "And that's my fault. I haven't been there for you like I should have."

Kurt shrugs. "It's fine. You have Finn and Carol," he says, though the words come out more bitter than Kurt intended. He drops his head and tugs at his comforter.

"What?" Burt growls and Kurt shrugs, cheeks flaming. He didn't mean it like that. He loves Finn and Carol, loves that they make his dad happy.

Kurt just kind of hates that he wasn't enough.

So he doesn't answer. But Burt stays. "Kurt Elizabeth Hummel." Burt snaps and Kurt jumps. Burt hasn't used his full name in a while. "Explain yourself." Burt snarls, his voice tight with anger. Kurt can't tell who it's directed at though.

"Nothing, Dad," Kurt lies, and the words slip off his tongue too easily. He tries not to cry.

"Kurt."

"It's nothing!"

Burt looks at him for a long time. "Come on downstairs. I'll make you some warm milk." Kurt's eyes widen. Burt hasn't made him warm milk in years. Not since the horrible months after his mom died and Kurt couldn't sleep for fear of bad dreams. It was his mom's recipe.

They used to sit at the kitchen table and drink from their mugs. And talk.

"With the vanilla and nutmeg?" Kurt asks hesitantly.

Burt smiled and claps a hand on Kurt's shoulder. "'Course with the vanilla and nutmeg. C'mon, kiddo."

Kurt follows him down the stairs to the empty kitchen. It's later than Kurt thought; Finn and Carole must already be in bed. He sits at the kitchen table, murmuring where the spices were as Burt put together two huge mugs. Glancing at the stove and then Kurt, Burt winced. "You gonna be annoyed if I use the microwave instead of a saucepan?"

"That's fine," Kurt rolls his eyes but grins. It's nice, actually. He hasn't spoken to his father like this in a long time. There was too much of a chance he'd slip up and mention the bullying, but that's all out now. Thanks to _him_.

They're silent as the mugs get put in the microwave and warm up. When the timer beeps, Burt takes the steaming milk out and stirs, placing the bright red one in front of Kurt and keeping the blue mug for himself. He sits next to Kurt and sips.

Carefully, Kurt tastes the milk. It's just like when he was a kid and Kurt's hit with a sudden sadness. He's not a kid anymore. Pushing his thoughts away, Kurt wraps his hand around the warm mug and drinks.

A few minutes go by before Burt sighs. "I know we don't…" Burt gestures between them, "talk too much anymore. An' we've had a rough year and all." Burt fixes Kurt with a stern look. "I haven't been there for you like I shoulda been and I haven't made you feel loved like I shoulda."

"Dad, it's fine," Kurt protested weakly. "Really, it's ok, you've been perfect, you've—"

"I haven't." Burt rubs his face, looking older than his years and Kurt's paralyzed with fear. "I should've known you were lying to me."

Kurt shakes his head, hands tight around the mug. It grounds him. "I didn't want you to know," he says in a harsh whisper. "I didn't tell anyone. I didn't want help. I was dealing."

Burt takes another sip of the milk while he waits for Kurt to work through himself.

"I didn't want to worry you." Kurt admits sullenly, looking into his mug so he doesn't have to see his dad's disappointed eyes. "You had the heart attack already and you didn't need the extra stress. And I didn't want you to see how pathetic I was." He wipes at his traitorous eyes.

"Dad," Kurt's voice cracks and he clamps his mouth shut, forcing down the lump in his throat. "Dad, say something."

"I think we're both workin' through some guilt issues, don't you?" Burt smiles wryly. Kurt stares at him, shocked. "Kurt, you're the kid. You don't gotta take care of me like that, you know?" Burt says pleadingly. Distress seeps into his words and Kurt feels like the worst son ever for dumping this on his sick father. "I want to know when you're unhappy. 'Cause it's my job as a father to fix it. C'mere."

He opens his arms and Kurt doesn't even stop to think before he's in his dad's lap and squeezing hard. Sometimes, he wishes he was a little kid again because his dad gives the best hugs. After Blaine, of course.

No flashbacks either.

Which, of course, makes Kurt burst into tears because it's been an hour since the last time he cried.

"You're perfect, Kurt. Your job is to be yourself and mine is to love you anyway. What happened to you don't change anything. I'm proud of you, Kurt. Always have been, always will." Burt murmurs into Kurt's hair. "Love you, kiddo." Kurt holds him tighter. "You're brave, Kurt, so brave and I'm so proud to be your dad."

When Kurt comes back to himself, he stands up, wiping his face with his sleeve. The sweatshirt is, surprise, Blaine's, and Kurt stares at his arm. "Blaine says that." Kurt says quietly. "That I'm brave." _He won't anymore._

Burt seems to consider his words. "You wanna talk about him?" he says awkwardly, but Burt's not shying away either. He's trying. For Kurt."

Maybe his dad can help.

Kurt's not ready to give up on Blaine.

"I think I screwed up, Dad."

Burt pats the table to get Kurt to sit back down. "I'll make more milk." He says neutrally.

Kurt kind of has the best father ever.

* * *

><p>At school the next morning, it takes Kurt three minutes to figure out Blaine hadn't bothered to show up, and four minutes before Azimio finds him.<p>

"You got balls showing up back here without your fucking boyfriend," Azimio snarls, crowding Kurt against his open locker. His face is swollen and his cheek is discolored, but it doesn't stop him from holding a fist near Kurt's face.

Kurt silently panics, but _anger_ overwhelms the _helplessness_ and Kurt's too distracted by Blaine not talking to him to really comprehend the amount of danger he's in.

"You really want to threaten me when I put your buddy in the hospital for going on two weeks now?" Kurt snaps. Honestly, these guys are too stupid to live. "You really want to do that after I took lessons from Blaine and I can rip your balls off in two moves?" Okay, maybe he is exaggerating, but the blood still drains from Azimio's face so Kurt really doesn't care. He slams his locker shut and fixes Azimio with a death glare. "We're playing by new rules. I pretend you don't exist, and you don't burden me with your unfashionable ass. My eyes can only handle so much polyester." Azimio gapes, but Kurt is already walking away.

Anger is definitely more helpful than fear. He can't help but preen a little bit. Blaine would be proud. If he was talking to Kurt. Kurt checks his phone. Ten minutes until Homeroom. And no sign of the idiot. But Puck's flirting with some freshman and Kurt doesn't wait before he marches over and taps his shoulder. He shoots a haughty look at the blonde girl and she flees in terror, much to Puck's chagrin.

"I want to talk to Karofsky." Kurt says to Puck before the mohawked teen can open his mouth. "And I want to talk to Blaine, so tell him to answer his damn phone before I hunt him down and throw it at him." Kurt's maybe a little annoyed at Blaine. Thirty-two missed calls and forty-seven unanswered texts will do that to a person.

He might also be a little obsessed but really, who's counting.

Puck frowns. "Dude, is that why he hasn't answered me all morning?" Puck narrows his eyes. "What are you doin' here, anyway? Thought you'd lay low for a bit after yesterday."

"I'm done being scared by those troglodytes." Kurt waves a hand dismissively. "About Karofsky—"

"Blaine let you come to school by yourself?"

"First of all, _Blaine _doesn't dictate anything I do," Kurt starts icily and Puck throws up his hands in surrender, "and _secondly, _Blaine thinks I hate him for yesterday!" Kurt explodes. At Pucks shocked face, Kurt tries to calm down and breathe. "I'm working on it. If he'd answer his phone."

Puck nods nervously. "I'll try calling him?" He says, making it a question. At Kurt's firm nod he sighs. "Okay, and what was that about Karofsky? Are you sure that's a good idea?"

Kurt scoffs. People need to start believing him when he says he wants something. "He attacked _me_. I think I deserve an explanation." He glares at Puck, daring him to question Kurt again.

"Okay, bro, I can get behind that." Puck grins. "After school? You want some mayhem unleashed on the nurses so you can get in his room, yeah?"

"Not too much," Kurt says, slightly alarmed. Maybe asking Puck for help wasn't the best idea, but he got Blaine in alright. And Puck stopped throwing him into dumpsters last year, so.

Puck patted Kurt's shoulder, still grinning. "Don't worry, Hummel. I'mma pro at this shit!"

"That's why I'm worried," Kurt mutters as they start walking to class.

"Yo. Listen." Puck suddenly stopped and gave Kurt a hard look. Kurt raised an eyebrow at his weird behavior. "I like you, Hummel. And you're kinda bros with one of my bros, so you cool. Plus, you're here after yesterday, so you got balls. Respect!" Puck holds up a fist for Kurt to hit, which he does, albeit hesitantly. "I'll knock some sense into Blaine. He's bein' stupid. Don't worry about loverboy. The Puckasaurus's got a plan!"

Kurt just laughed at Puck's antics. It felt nice. He hadn't laughed in a while.

Now he just had to hold it together for the afternoon. Kurt's stomach twisted at the thought of being in the same room as the boy that's been the subject of his nightmares for weeks. But he needed to do this. Kurt waved to Puck and walked to his homeroom with a few stragglers.

He could do this.

* * *

><p>The hospital room is small and white. Kurt stands against the wall, arms crossed as he watches the boy sleeping on the bed in front of him. Karofsky's face still looks slightly puffy and there are a few lines of stitches across his cheek and along his hairline. They're tinged a faint purple. But there's no oxygen lines or heart monitor and Kurt breathes a low sigh of relief. Karofsky is alright. Kurt's not a killer.<p>

He has about fifteen minutes. Puck had toppled a vending machine and then ran, followed by Karofksy's police guard and a few pissed off nurses. He hoped Puck escaped. He still needed to talk to Blaine for Kurt, after all.

"Wake up." Kurt says, and Karofsky stirs at the noise. Kurt flinches, but stands tall. He's still a good seven or eight feet from the bed and he can see the glint of silver that holds Karofsky to the bed, but Kurt's not stupid. Just being in the same room as this monster makes his knees shake and fear race up his spine.

Karofsky's eyes flicker open and he twists around to see Kurt. Scowling, he sits up and tugs the hospital gown into place from where it bunched in his sleep. "The fuck are you doing here?" Karofsky growls. Looking Kurt up and down, he frowns. "What happened to those skin-tight pants? Those look like Hudson's hand-me-downs."

Kurt stiffens. "You did." He takes some pleasure in Karofsky's guilty shifting. Silence falls over them. When Karofsky reaches for a glass on the table next to him, wincing as his stitches pull, Kurt starts at the movement.

Jesus, Kurt's the one with all the power here; why the fuck is he still so scared?

_Courage_, whispers Blaine.

But he's here for a reason. He's going to stick to that.

"Why did you do it?" Kurt says. His fingers squeeze his biceps and he fights to remain standing, to not bolt. He's strong enough to hear the reason he was attacked by a classmate.

Resentful eyes glare at him, but Kurt doesn't move. Karofsky's fingers clench into a white fist and Kurt has to fight to resist taking a step back. God, he wishes Blaine was here. But he can do this. He can. This asshole did his best to ruin Kurt's life, the _least_ he can do is give Kurt a good fucking reason.

"I deserve to know." Kurt says, voice hard. "_You_ attacked _me_, tell me why!"

"'Cause I was angry!" Karofsky yells and Kurt snaps his mouth shut. Karofsky glares, breathing hard. "You—you walk around like _it_ doesn't matter! Like liking boys is okay!"

There's more fear in Karofsky's voice than anger and Kurt listens, fascinated.

Karofsky sniffs wetly. "And—and you're with _Anderson_." He spits out Blaine's name with hatred. "That fucking _poser_. He's a piece of shit, you know, never liked that douchebag—"

Kurt can't breathe. This was because Karofksy was _jealous_? An angry beast snarls within his chest, but Kurt squashes it down. Now is not the time. There has to be more.

Karofsky looks down at his sheets. Voice thick, he continues. "I hate you." He mutters. "I really do. You make me feel…_fuck_, things I shouldn't and it's too confusing and fucking scary and you're always just _there_ and _perfect_ and teasing me with your legs and face and lips." He looks up with that and Kurt swallows hard. Loose pants suddenly seem really appropriate and Kurt so thankful he passed on his regular jeans this morning. His arms hug around his chest tighter, like he can shield himself from Karofsky's leering.

"That's not my fault." Kurt whispers. He did _not_ bring this on himself, _he didn't_.

"Yeah it is." Karofsky scoffs bitterly. "I was perfectly fine until _you_ came along." His thick arms tremble, like Karofsky wants to hurt him. Kurt steps back at the venom in his voice. "I didn't do anything you didn't ask for."

"I asked you to _stop_!" Kurt stops just short of screaming. His chest feels tight and his breaths come in short gasps. "I didn't want you, but that doesn't mean you're allowed to _attack_ me, you _asshole_—"

"I WAS NORMAL UNTIL YOU!" Karofsky bellows. Kurt flinches back against the wall. "I WAS _FINE_, AND NOW MY MOM WON'T EVEN LOOK AT ME!" His whole face is flushed red and Kurt has never been so thankful for handcuffs because he's pretty sure they're all that's stopping Karofsky from trying to strangle him. "She hates me because she thinks I'm a _fag_!" Karofsky howls and throws his water glass at Kurt. Somehow, Kurt ducks and it shatters against the wall with a crash.

"No. It's because you're a rapist." Kurt tries to keep his voice from shaking, but he's not sure he succeeds. "Not because you tried to kiss me, but because you tried to _rape_ me. And the only reason you didn't is because I beat you." Kurt curls his mouth into a disdainful smile. "I beat you." He repeats, straightening himself and lifting his chin. "You didn't ruin me."

Karofsky glowers and lunges forward, but the handcuffs hold him back and then nurses are running inside, drawn by the noise. He screams curses at Kurt retreating back as Kurt leaves him. The words follow him to the elevator where Puck waits. They wait for the elevator silently, the commotion for Karofsky's room echoing down the hallway. When the doors open, Kurt steps inside and jabs the ground floor button viciously. Puck follows him without a word.

Kurt doesn't say anything until the doors close, and then he takes a deep shaky breath and looks at Puck.

"Oh my god." Kurt breathes, and collapses into terrified sobs. Puck's strong arms wrap around him and he rubs Kurt's back and lets him cry into his shoulder.

"You did good, Hummel." Puck murmurs. Kurt's arms are trapped between their bodies and Kurt gradually calms himself, though his knees still feel weak from the encounter.

But he survived. And Puck is seriously the best friend ever, which Kurt tries to tell him through his tears and Puck's shoulder.

Puck just chuckles and ruffles his hair. Kurt figures he can let it go, seeing as the teen did just run all over the hospital for him. "You did good." Puck repeats, and holds up a fist.

Kurt laughs weakly and pounds it with his own.

* * *

><p>He feels weak and drained from the day, and Kurt shuffles his way to his front door. There's an unfamiliar car in the driveway and Kurt wonders. Trepidation grips his throat as Kurt opens the unlocked door. His dad should still be at work. There shouldn't be anyone home.<p>

"Kurt?" His dad calls from the living room. Kurt drops his backpack by the stairs and follows the hallway to find Burt sitting in his armchair. Detective Adler and Detective DeCarlo are there too, looking grim. Heart somewhere in his throat and stomach tight, Kurt walks in carefully.

"What's going on?" Kurt asks, eyes flitting between the adults.

Detective Adler glances at her partner and sighs. "Come sit down, Kurt. We were just about to explain to your father."

Numbly, Kurt jerkily walks to his father and perches on the edge of the armrest. He folds his arms.

Detective DeCarlo starts. "The prosecutor made an offer to the Karofsky's this afternoon." He watches Kurt's expression, which stays neutral. "It's…not what you expected."

Kurt snorts, but gets ignored.

"Whaddaya mean, 'not what we expected?'" Burt snaps angrily. "That kid tried to hurt my son—"

"Mr. Hummel—"

"Burt."

"Burt, then." Detective Adler runs her fingers through her hair. She looks angry. "We're trying to avoid a trial. Because trials are long, messy, and costly, and your son will have to get up in front of roomful of strangers and have to recount every incident that the accused scared him or assaulted him. Every single one." She's looking at Kurt with that and Kurt can't breathe, can't imagine laying himself bare for the world like that. All those eyes staring at him and judging him and hating him. Hell, the interviews alone were enough to break him apart. He leans into his father and Burt puts a hand on his shoulder. The weight is comforting, full of love and protection. Detective Adler's voice softens. "We don't want to put Kurt through that. Or the cross-examination."

"We've worked against their lawyer before." Detective DeCarlo's expression sours. "Lunsford is an asshole. He would destroy Kurt on the stand, never mind that he's only sixteen."

Burt's grip on his shoulder tightens and Kurt worries fleetingly about his heart. The stress can't be good.

"What are the terms of the deal?" Burt glares at the detectives.

They look at each other before Detective Adler takes the plunge. "It's the best we could do. They don't want a trial either." She says, looking nervous.

"Just tell us," Kurt says softly. They stare at him in shock. It's the first he's spoken since he came in.

Detective Adler nods, though she doesn't look away from him. "We're offering two years in juvenile detention for aggravated assault and harassment, plus three years on probation, the successful completion of an anger management course, and therapy. The sexual assault charges will be dropped." Kurt sees his dad flush and puts a hand on his arm to calm him. Detective Adler continues. "In return, they won't push for assault or attempted manslaughter charges on you." She says.

The terms aren't good. They kind of suck, actually. Kurt looks down and the floor, thinks. If accepted, there won't be a trial. But… "Juvenile detention?" Kurt repeats, looking at the detectives.

"Yeah." Detective DeCarlo frowns. "He'll be charged as a juvenile instead of an adult."

Something from those crappy cop shows Carole likes to watch flashes through his mind. "But juvenile records can be sealed."

Detective Adler nods. "Once he's done his probation, he can request the records be sealed, yes."

Burt growls. "That boy tried to rape my _son_ and this is all he's getting?" The arm on Kurt's shoulder shakes. "That's it?'

"Dad, please," Kurt murmurs to him, grabbing his hand and squeezing. "I know it's not the best, but this is good. I won't go to jail for beating him up and he'll still be out of my life. I won't have to testify." Kurt's eyes burn hot and his stomach squeezes at the thought. "Please, Daddy, don't make me have to testify; I can't—" Kurt's cut off when his father pulls him down into his lap and holds him tight.

"Okay, Kurt; it's ok, everything' gonna be fine," He mutters gruffly, though he doesn't let go. "We'll get through this."

"We're very sorry," Detective Adler says apologetically. Kurt turns his head to watch them stand up awkwardly. "We'll let you know what their lawyer says." She gives a half-smile to Kurt. "You're a brave one. Keep it up."

"Stay strong, kid," Detective DeCarlo raises his hand in a small wave to Kurt. They let themselves out.

Kurt stays in his father's lap for a few minutes, head reeling. The day's been…emotional. Kurt's suddenly exhausted and he only wants to sleep, just sleep and forget everything for a little while. He checks his phone, but no messages. Blaine's still ignoring him. Kurt pushes himself up.

"I'm just going to…" He croaks, gesturing vaguely towards the stairs. "I'm going to lay down for a bit." Burt just nods.

"Come down when you're ready, kiddo."

Kurt nods, and flees.

God, what a day.

* * *

><p>Around two in the morning, Kurt's phone startles him out of his sleep when it begins buzzing on his night table. Blearily, Kurt forces his eyes open and squints at the screen. His face feels puffy from crying most of the day and he hadn't eaten dinner the night before. The screen swims into focus and Kurt nearly drops the phone in his haste to answer it.<p>

"Hello—shit—hello? Blaine?" Kurt holds the phone to his ear, trying not to squeeze it too hard because _Blaine's calling him_. "Blaine?"

There's a sniffle then a quiet whimper. _"Kurt?"_

How can his eyes still be watering up? He thought he'd gotten all the tears out hours ago. "Blaine, what's going on? It's like two a.m., where are you?" Kurt doesn't even think before he's out of bed and trying to pull on his shirt one-handed. Blaine's about as stubborn as he is and twice as hotheaded, so there has to be a reason why he's calling so late. A good one. Kurt's suddenly scared.

"_I just…"_ Blaine's voice is quiet and slurred and Kurt can hear muffled music coming through the speaker.

"Are you drunk?"

"_Very."_ Blaine admits. And giggles. "_Feels good, Kurt. Doesn' hurt."_ Another sniffle. _"'Cept it really kinda does."_

Shit. Kurt throws on a coat and grabs his keys, tiptoeing out of his room. The house is quiet and dark and Kurt stubs his toe running into Finn's sneakers left in the hallway. He tries to muffle his curses and creeps out to his car. "Where are you, Blaine?" He says, fumbling with his keys.

Blaine sniffs again. _"Scandals,"_ he says thickly.

Kurt narrows his eyes. "The sleazy gay bar in West Lima?" He wrinkles his nose. There are rumors about that place. Supposedly it's lax with IDs and full of middle-aged creeps. According to Puck, at least. He had no idea Blaine even wanted to go.

"_Yeah."_ The line crackles. _"Kurt, Kurt I know—I know we broke up and—and you _hate_ me but I miss you _so much_, I do," _and Kujrt's hearts breaks a little because _what the fuck_, they didn't break up and he definitely doesn't hate Blaine. They just had a fight, couples do that. They both were irrational and under a lot of stress. It happens. Blaine takes a deep breath and Kurt knows he has to talk about this in person. _"…Can you come get me?"_ he says, the defeat heavy in his voice.

"Of course. Blaine, of course I'll come." Kurt immediately says. Christ, why's Blaine so upset?_ "_Okay, just hold on, Blaine, I'll be there in ten minutes. Stay on the line with me." Blaine's silent, but doesn't hang up so Kurt counts that as a plus. He can't be that mad if he hasn't cut off the call yet. Kurt backs out and drives one-handed, the other holding the phone to his ear.

He finds Blaine in a dirty alley next to the bar, talking to a tall, thin guy with spiky brown hair. The guy, who looks about their age, actually, crowds in close to Blaine and runs a possessive hand up Blaine's arm. A spike of jealously thrums through Kurt at the sight and he slams his car door a little harder than necessary as he stalks over.

When he's closer, Kurt can hear their conversation.

"Come on, let's go back to my place, sexy," the boy purrs, hands on Blaine's hips. Blaine pushes his shoulders weakly.

"No. No. Don't wanna fuck you, you don't smell good." Blaine scrunches up his nose and _yeah_, he is definitely drunker than at Rachel's party. "And you're a bad kisser." Kurt's not sure if he should be angry or burst out laughing because Blaine sounds so affronted and offended. "'M waiting. Kurt's comin' f' me." Blaine looks around, but the boy catches his hair and tilts his head back. Blaine lets out a small whimper.

The boy laughs and mouths at Blaine's neck as he runs his fingers through his curls. "Kurt's not here and I'm definitely a better fuck, baby. Come on," He laughs at Blaine's halfhearted attempts to fend him off. "You were just beggin' for in out on the dance floor, shaking your ass and everything." Kurt sees his hands wander down Blaine's backside and the way Blaine's body suddenly stiffens and Kurt's vision goes red.

He yanks the taller boy off Blaine and pushes him against the opposite wall. "Leave. Him. Alone." Kurt growls. Up close, the boy is pretty handsome if Kurt is being unbiased. But he's not. "Blaine told you quite clearly he didn't want your smirky little meerkat face, so beat it, Craigslist." Kurt shoves him towards the street, choking on the overwhelming cologne the boy drowns his clothes in. God, that's disgusting.

The boy dusts himself off and glares. "_Blaine_ was dancing like he needed a good fuck. I was just offering, Pillsbury Dough-Face. Seeing as he _clearly_ isn't getting anything from your pathetic virgin ass."

Rage boils in Kurt's blood and Kurt steps forward hotly. "Let me tell you something, you preppy, wannabe—"

"Kurt's got a nice ass. An _awesome _ass." Blaine puts in. He grins. "It's firm and round and—"

"Blaine, _shut up._" Kurt blushes furiously. He kind of wants to die, but Blaine takes a step forward and almost falls, so Kurt catches him. Blaine leans heavily on Kurt's shoulder and nuzzles, sighing happily. The boy rolls his eyes and storms away, though Kurt shoots him a dirty look anyway. Asshole.

"You know, I still think you're hot as shit." Blaine presses up close to Kurt and winds his arms around Kurt's waist. "I know you think you're like—damaged or something, or like, dirty? Used? 'Cause of Karos—karo—that fuckhead jock—but that's stupid." Blaine works his face into a smile. "'Cause you're amazing."

Yeah, Kurt really kind of loves this moron.

Then Blaine's face falls. And Kurt feels like an asshole because he knows _exactly_ why Blaine looks like someone stole the last cookie from the cookie jar.

"Kurt, please, le's just go," Blaine buries his face in Kurt's shoulder. "Please? M' head hur's and—and I'm so _sad_ and—_shit,_ I don't know what I'm saying. Wha' 'm I saying?" He looks utterly perplexed and Kurt sighs.

"Alright, Boozy. Let's go." Kurt gets his arm under Blaine's and supports him to his Navigator. He helps Blaine into the passenger seat and glares at the drunk boy in his car. "If you puke in my car, I am making you clean it whether you're still drunk or not, got it?" Blaine's eyes go wide. "I mean it; I will castrate you if you ruin the upholstery." Kurt threatens, smiling when Blaine nods nervously, properly terrified. "Good boy," Kurt sighs and gets in the driver's side. They pull out of the parking lot in silence.

He drives to Blaine's house. It's big enough that his mother should hear them trying to get to his room, something that would never fly at Kurt's. Blaine's ridiculously uncoordinated when he's smashed, and the crashing around would definitely wake up Burt and Carole.

Even so, Blaine's not helping much as he bursts into giggles when he walks into a wall in the dark. Kurt only had his hands off of him to close the door. Blaine's hopeless.

"Jesus _Christ_, Blaine," Kurt groans and marches Blaine as quietly as possible up the long staircase and to his room. It's even messier than the last time he was around. Blaine flicks on his light and then flops face-down on his unmade bed, mumbling something into the covers.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the boy I'm in love with," Kurt mutters to himself. He sits down near Blaine's head and strokes through the curls gently. "Blaine, turn on your side so you don't pass out and choke to death on your own vomit." He says soothingly.

"So romantic." Blaine pouts as he obeys, but smiles when Kurt lets out a faint laugh. Kurt lays down next to Blaine, facing him. They don't speak for a while.

"Do you want to talk about why you felt the need to go to Scandals?" Kurt finally asks. _And what's that asshole's name so I can kill him for you?_

Blaine shrugs and rubs his forehead. He stops looking at Kurt.

"You haven't been answering your phone."

Blaine groans and grabs a pillow to stuff his face in. "You hate me." He says, hurt and muffled.

Kurt strokes Blaine's shoulder. "I've been calling and texting you nonstop. Clearly I don't." Kurt gently tugs the pillow away, revealing Blaine's upset face and watery eyes. "Sweetie, come on. Talk to me."

"If I talked to you, you'd know." He looks at Kurt sadly. "I fuck up e'rything. E'ryone always leaves me. Like you did. And m' dad." The whispered words cut deep into Kurt's skin.

He needs to fix this. "You went to Scandals because you thought we broke up? That I didn't want you anymore?"

Blaine nods as a tear slides down his cheek and soaks the sheets. "I just wanted to forget. It hurts so bad." It's probably the alcohol that makes Blaine talk so much, but Kurt's not complaining. "Sebastian—"

"The kid from the alleyway?" Kurt's jealously raises its hackles again.

"Yeah. Him." Blaine shrugs. "He offered…you know. And I went along for a little while but I kept thinking about you and he made me feel even worse and then I thought about what happened to you and how scared you were and he scared me so I left and I knew you probably didn't want to see me but I had _no one_ else, Kurt," Blaine babbles and Kurt grabs his hand to try and calm him down. "I had to call you and you _came_." Blaine looks at him strangely. "Why'd you come?"

Kurt strokes Blaine's cheeks fondly. "Because, you idiot," he leans in close and smiles at the hitch in Blaine's breathing. "I'm still in love with you." He breathes, then catches Blaine's lips in a chaste kiss. It's terrifying, exhilarating, and amazing all at once.

He can feel Blaine smile into it, but Kurt pulls away before it goes any deeper. He strokes his thumb across Blaine's knuckles in apology. Blaine looks blissed out, though, so he's pretty sure he's forgiven.

"We'll talk about this in the morning." Kurt kisses Blaine's forehead and tries to climb back out of the bed. It's late; he should go home before his father wakes up. But a tight grip holds him in place.

"Stay with me?" Blaine looks up hopefully, and Kurt's particularly spineless against his puppy looks. Even the drunk ones.

"Blaine…"

"Please?" Blaine tugs on Kurt's sleeve. "I promise I won't try anything. I know 'm drunk and all but I just…I need to be close to you."

Kurt's gone by that point. He sighs and leans across Blaine to turn out the light before falling back into place. Blaine wastes no time before he's curling himself around Kurt's body. He's like a big, clingy starfish.

"You're losing your badboy street cred, Anderson." Kurt teases.

"'s worth it," Blaine mumbles happily in Kurt's chest and snuggles in farther. "Smell nice. Feel good."

"Go to sleep, Blaine."

"Make sure I don't die."

"Never."

"Love you, Kurt."

Kurt smiles softly and runs his fingers through Blaine's hair. "Love you too, Blaine." He murmurs, and means every word.

* * *

><p><strong>AN- Thanks for reading!**


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N-**

**So this is up quickly, mainly because I'm going back to college Saturday and I'm going to be busy all next week. So here it is!**

**Warnings- language, hungover Blaine, fluffity fluff**

* * *

><p>Kurt gets woken up at some godforsaken hour by his boyfriend falling off the bed and tripping in the covers in his haste to get to the bathroom. The cold air hits Kurt like a hammer and he groans, snuggling deeper into the abandoned pillow. He vaguely hears Blaine throwing up, but the fucking moron can make it a little while longer without Kurt taking care of him. Kurt has faith in him.<p>

When the toilet flushes and the sunlight is too much to ignore, Kurt blearily opens his eyes to look at Blaine leaning in the doorway to his room. His curls are a mess and he has a decent amount of scruff, but Kurt smiles anyway. Blaine seems happy, confused, and hungover all at the same time.

Stretching, Kurt rubs the sleep out of his eyes and resolutely ignores how awful his hair looks at the moment. Blaine takes the time to jump back on the bed and ruffle it, earning a quick smack.

"Mornin'," Kurt croaks, smiling. He feels rested. First time in weeks, actually. And he'd kissed Blaine last night. Maybe things were getting better.

"You're here." Blaine looks at Kurt like he can't believe it. "In my bed."

Kurt nods, stretching again. "Yes I am. How's your head?"

"I feel like death," Blaine says dramatically, sprawling across Kurt's stomach. Unconsciously, Kurt's fingers found their way into Blaine's hair and stroke gently. It's one of his favorite things to do, actually. His hair is so soft. Blaine hums happily and throws an arm over his eyes. "Why is it so fucking bright in here?" he moans.

Kurt rolled his eyes. "This is your punishment for trying to drink your way through a bar," he tells Blaine, who just groans again. Kurt checks his phone and texts his father. _8:53 a.m_. They aren't going to school today, Kurt's already decided. They need this. This time to just be…them. No pressures.

"If you get up, I'll make you pancakes," Kurt pats Blaine's shoulder and eases his legs out from under Blaine. "Is your mom still here?"

Blaine snorts. "'Course not," he says darkly. "She leaves before dawn. Chocolate chips?"

"Blueberries," Kurt counters with a frown. "You had enough empty calories last night."

Blaine makes a face, but dutifully follows Kurt to the huge kitchen once they've brushed their teeth. Kurt doesn't let Blaine shave though, fascinated with the stubble he's never managed to grow. It's rough under his fingers and Blaine seems to enjoy the way Kurt keeps rubbing his jawline. There's a note from his mom that Blaine scans quickly before crumpling it up with a scowl and dumping it in the trash. After pointing out where the ingredients and the cookware are, Blaine pops a few aspirin tablets and chugs a glass of water before he rests his head in his arms on the island.

"How embarrassed should I be about last night?" he asks, facedown.

Kurt stops mixing the batter and glances at him. "How much do you remember?"

"Um…" Blaine rubs at his eyes and grimaces. "Ugh. I went to Scandals. 'Cause we broke up." His voice goes soft and suddenly the floor is really interesting. "It's kind of blurry…uh there was some guy? He was really annoying though; really pushy. He kind of smelled like one of those preppy stores my dad likes. And he was bad at kissing. I called you and you came and got me. Didn't you yell at him or something?"

"Mmm." Kurt hums and pours out the first pancake. "'Course I got you. Couldn't leave you alone with the skanky ferret."

Blaine bursts out laughing. "'Skanky ferret'?"

Kurt flips the pancake to brown the other side. "He was a jerk. And tried to make out with you, so instant shit list right there. You told him all about my ass though, so thanks for that." Kurt winks at Blaine's red face.

"Oh my god."

"Mmmhmm. You informed him it was, and I quote, 'awesome.'"

Blaine eyes Kurt's backside thoughtfully. "I don't lie. I am rather fond of your ass." He grins at Kurt's blush.

Kurt laughs, but guilt nags at him. Before Karofsky, he and Blaine hadn't gone further than some heavy making out and over-the-clothes fondling. Kurt hadn't been ready for more and Blaine was nice about it. Now, though, Kurt's really not sure how long it's going to be before he doesn't freak out when Blaine touches him _like that._ And there would always be boys more than willing to spread their legs for Blaine. Like Sebastian.

Blaine's amazing, but it's really unfair to ask him to wait for Kurt.

Kurt tries not to think about it as he adds blueberries to batter for Blaine's pancakes.

The pancakes are finished soon after and Blaine gets the coffee. He brews it strongly. Blaine drowns his pancakes in syrup and butter, but Kurt dumps the French vanilla creamer in the coffee until it's a pale tan, so Blaine can be forgiven for the unhealthy amount of sugar on his plate. Sitting at the table, it's domestic. Kurt can imagine days like this in the future; in their shared apartment before work or classes. Making breakfast; sitting in companionable silence; enjoying each other.

If Blaine can keep himself out of jail and Kurt doesn't drive him away with his insanity.

The pancakes suddenly sit heavy in his stomach and Kurt slowly puts his fork down. Blaine still shoves them in his mouth, though. And he drains the coffee at an alarming rate.

"Blaine?"

The picture when Blaine pauses, fork halfway in his mouth and cheeks bulging, is comical. He swallows and eyes Kurt carefully.

"I think we need to talk about yesterday. And the fight." Kurt tries to keep his voice even, but it shakes.

"Are you breaking up with me?" Blaine cuts in hurriedly. "'Cause I sort of remember last night, you said you didn't and it really fucking sucked when I thought you did so can you please tell me so I don't completely freak the fuck out?" He takes a deep breath after the sudden torrent of words and holds it nervously.

Kurt reaches across the table and grabs Blaine's hand because it was the easiest way to get Blaine to look at him. "I'm not breaking up with you."

"Oh good." Blaine lets out his breath, relieved. "But—"

"I was just…" Kurt shrugs. God, it's hard to put this into words. "Can you just—listen? I want to say this right and not make you angry and leave again because that just…it really scared me." Kurt glances up at Blaine hesitantly. "Can you do that? And not freak out when I say something you don't agree with?"

At first, Blaine looks pretty pissed but he calms himself down fairly quickly. "I'll try," he mutters, though he shifts guiltily. Kurt tries to pull himself together and remember everything about school that day. His stomach twists uncomfortably, but running away won't help this time.

"I'm getting better," he says. "I am. I have good days and bad days and all, but I'm working on it, you know?" Blaine's grip on his hand grounds him, and Kurt uses the pressure to focus. "Dr. Englund is helping. You're helping. You actually help a lot; I'm not sure if you know that. So thank you."

That gets a small smile. Kurt's pretty sure Blaine doesn't get praised too often, but that's something to explore later. Right now is about them.

This was the hard part. Kurt swallows nervously. "You and Dad—I love you guys, I do, it's just that…sometimes, you treat me like—like a baby bird." Kurt sighs in frustration. "And I know I deserve it a lot, but I can't handle it. I can't deal with that kind of pity." Blaine opens his mouth but Kurt cuts him off with a glare. "Don't do that; you know you do. Look, Blaine, I'm just tired of being a victim. I want to be better than that to you."

Blaine scrunches his face up in confusion. "To me?"

Kurt groans. He's not getting this right. "I just—I just want to be _me_. I want to learn how to be myself again. Without anyone hovering over me." Blaine narrows his eyes, but stays silent, thank God. Kurt wets his dry lips and redoubles his grip on Blaine's hands. "_Blaine_. I don't want to be weak anymore. Not to you, not to dad, not to anyone I care about. Karofksy and Azimio and his cronies can think whatever the fuck they want; I don't care. I care about _you_."

Kurt waits. Blaine stares at him hard, then sighs and massages his forehead. "You're such a fucking martyr, you know that?" he grumbles.

"Probably," Kurt shrugs. "But that's how I feel. When you beat the crap out of Azimio, it was very flattering, yeah, but it also really embarrassing to me. It showed everyone that I still can't defend myself."

"You put Karofsky in the hospital."

"Yes," Kurt admits. "I did, but that's a little different. Karofsky was physically hurting me. Azimio was just…they're just words. I can handle it." Blaine still avoids Kurt's eyes but Kurt does his best to meet them. "I did overreact though, and I'm sorry." His thumb strokes over Blaine's knuckles. "I shouldn't have yelled at you. It wasn't really you I was mad at."

"It really did suck." Blaine says quietly. He looks at their joined hands. "I know I'm like, impulsive and shit," he fingers his earrings, "and I kind of fuck up a lot. So I might have flipped out more than I should have. Both times." He scowls at the table, and Kurt has to smile. Admitting he was wrong is pretty rare for Blaine so he'll take the awkward apology.

"So just for record," Kurt begins and Blaine peeks up at him nervously, "we both screwed up. I definitely didn't break up with you, we just had a fight, and we should always talk it out when either one of us is upset. Sound good?"

Blaine nods, one side of his mouth curving up. "I still think you're the strongest person I've ever met." Kurt blushes and ducks his head. "But, you shouldn't bottle things up so much." Blaine says quietly.

"I know. I'm working on it." Kurt looks down at his half-eaten plate.

Blaine's phone buzzes on the counter. Frowning, Blaine glances at it, scanning the screen. A few emotions fly across his face—confusion, recognition, then finally, guilt. He doesn't try to stop Kurt when Kurt snatches the phone out of his hands.

"'_Hey Blaine when you're ready to dump the pasty gay face text me last night was incredible._'" Kurt reads out. Anger and jealousy battle within him for dominance. Kurt grits his teeth, but manages to keep his voice below shouting range. "You really did make out with him didn't you? And you gave that slimy meerkat your phone number?" Kurt gets out tightly.

Blaine blushes and grabs his phone back, typing out a quick response and dropping the phone on the table like it's radioactive. "Ok, first of all, I thought you broke up with me and I was drunk so that's not fair. I didn't cheat on you. And second, he asked." Blaine glares right back. "If you want to get technical, he actually took my phone and put his number in before I could say anything," he mutters.

"Blaine." Kurt opens his voice to continue because this is so _not_ okay. Even if they did break up, what the fuck was Blaine doing picking up phony jackasses at a gay bar in _Lima_. Even if the jackass is question is pretty hot. He's cut off by Blaine's phone vibrating again, and this time, Kurt is faster than Blaine. He scans the text then slams the phone down, cheeks hot with embarrassment.

"What's it say?" Blaine seems too nervous to check for himself and instead watches Kurt hold his hand over his mouth and study the wall.

Kurt's knee bounces under the table and his hand shakes. His body won't stay still; not with _that_ texting Blaine and saying _those things_, things Kurt's not going to be ready for, not for a long time. He doesn't stop Blaine when Blaine looks at the phone for himself.

"Oh." Blaine's voice comes out soft. "Kurt—"

"Don't." Kurt says tightly. He won't—_can't—_look at Blaine. The look of disappointment would destroy him. Because who the hell would stay with a traumatized virgin when Sebastian was offering up everything? He's tall, thin, confident, sexy, cute, and his hair, though something out a CW drama, isn't horrible. Sebastian is _Kurt_, just a better version. One that clearly has no problem with sex or alcohol, things Blaine clearly wants judging by how quickly he ran for them after Kurt. Sebastian wouldn't have made Blaine quit smoking. He probably would have loved the stench of tobacco and not ranted about the inevitable lung cancer and baldness Blaine would face.

Not that Kurt directly made Blaine quit, but the fucking point still stood.

Why would Blaine want to be with Kurt when he has other less psychotic options? Hell, Kurt just finished _yelling_ at Blaine for _defending_ him; what kind of boyfriend does that?

Or punches said boyfriend in the face when he goes in for a kiss like Kurt did last week?

Tears burn hotly in Kurt's eyes and he takes a deep breath. _Sebastian_ wouldn't be a whimpering mess every five minutes. He wipes at his eyes viciously. _Fuck_.

Not for the first time, Kurt truly _hates_ Karofsky for what he did.

It's moments like these when Kurt thinks _he_ was the one that won in the locker room.

Kurt stands up abruptly. He needs to get out and just breathe; just get away from Blaine and Sebastian and that damn text. A cold, snide voice in his head reminds him that he's _running away, coward_ but Kurt's hands don't stop trembling and he just. Can't.

He brushes past Blaine and storms back up the stairs for his jacket, thrown somewhere in Blaine's room. And his boots. He may still love Blaine, but those Docs were over a hundred dollars and Kurt's not leaving them behind; regardless of how much he feels like shit. He stalks into the room, catching sight of the rumpled bed.

Where he and Blaine slept together last night.

Where _nothing _happened.

Because Kurt is pathetic.

He's still staring at the bed when Blaine nearly runs into him from behind. Closing his mouth, Blaine takes hold of Kurt's arm and gently tugs him over to the bed and pulls him down so they sit side by side. Kurt goes robotically. This is it. Blaine's going to dump him because_ who wouldn't._

"You know how," Blaine starts, "we just talked about not bottling things up and how communication is fucking awesome?" He raises an eyebrow at Kurt. "I think we should start now."

Kurt frowns and narrows his eyes at Blaine. This…isn't how he expected the conversation to go.

"Come on, Kurt," Blaine knocks his shoulder, like he always does to goad Kurt into talking. "If it's Sebastian, I really don't like him. Told him to fuck off, 'cause I already have a boyfriend. Who's way hotter." He grins.

It really doesn't make Kurt feel better. "What good is having a boyfriend," Kurt says softly, "if he won't 'blow you and then fuck you into the mattress until you both come so hard you pass out'?" His heart lodges up in his throat and Kurt can't look at Blaine.

To his surprise, Blaine chuckles. Whipping his head up, Kurt glares. This wasn't funny!

"Is that why you're upset?" Blaine's hand starts stroking Kurt's arm, wide and comforting. Kurt stares at it. "I'm not sure what I'm more offended by: the fact you think I'd break up with you for not wanting sex with me right now, or how bad you think my taste in men is." He softens the blow with a small smile though.

A tiny, _tiny_, bit of relief seems into Kurt. "You really don't deserve me. Sebastian…" Kurt lifts his arm and lets it drop. "He's. I'm not going to be him. Not for a while." _Maybe ever._

Hell, Kurt can't even watch _those_ movies. Not without slamming his laptop closed and throwing it across the room. Now, just the thought of being held down or _sexwantlustneed_ scares him to the point of panic attacks. After Karofsky…

"Shit, Kurt. I know you call me an idiot a lot, but sometimes you're a fucking moron." Blaine pulls him into a hug with a fond smile. "I don't _want_ him. Not now, not ever. I want _you_."

"But what about…" Kurt trails off. He tries to breathe in _Blaine_ and relax. Maybe Blaine wasn't breaking up with him. Suddenly, Kurt really understood why Blaine tried to drown his sorrows in alcohol, because heartbreak fucking _hurts._

"Sex?" Blaine releases Kurt and pulls away slightly. "I know I curse and fight and fuck up, like, a lot," Blaine shrugs, "But I'm definitely not _that_ asshole. You're not ready and I like you enough to wait. It's not difficult."

Sometimes Blaine is so frank with things. And Kurt remembers why he fell in love with this miscreant.

"Plus, that's why they invented masturbation." Blaine adds, waving his arms in a crude gesture and Kurt just _laughs_, because there's his Blaine. Trying to tame his smile, he holds his hand open between them and tries not to squeal when Blaine clasps it with his own.

"I'm sorry I can't give you want you want." Kurt says softly.

"You give me what I need." Blaine counters. "Y'know, you _listen_ to me. You didn't just dismiss me as some criminal when we first met and you make me feel good about myself even if I'm never gonna stop screwing up. I can be patient, babe." He slides his hands so their fingers interlock. It's intimate and Kurt sucks in a breath. "Even if we never kiss again, I love being around you. I'm like one of those barnacle things; we're stuck together for life!" Blaine grins when Kurt laughs again.

It feels really amazing to be able to laugh again.

"I don't tell you enough," Kurt says, looking at their joined hands and thinking about how right it feels, "but you're not a fuck up. And you're kind of perfect to me." He smiles at Blaine's pleased face, though Blaine tries to hide it with an insulted expression.

"Only 'kind of'? You're such a brat; I'm fucking flawless!" He retorts, but Kurt can see how much it means to Blaine.

"You don't own matching socks, Blaine! That's break-up material right there." Kurt sighs dramatically and moves to get up, but Blaine grabs him around the middle and pulls him back, laying him flat on the mattress. He takes advantage of Kurt's surprised yelp to lean over and swiftly kiss him.

It's short and sweet, like the night before, just a brush of lips.

And Kurt doesn't panic when Blaine goes in for a second.

"I think I'm getting better. We should keep practicing." He whispers shyly.

Blaine grins and obliges.

* * *

><p><strong>AN-**

**I'm going to try to wrap this up soon and maybe start another story. I'm thinking fantasy. Because Blaine would be an amazing if incompetent knight, and the glee spoilers suck. I haven't decided if I'm going to watch this season. Two Rachels might just put me over the edge.**

**Thank you all for reading and reviewing, favoriting, etc. I appreciate it!**


	20. Chapter 20

**Warnings- swearing, glee club members being selfish assholes, homophobia**

* * *

><p>Glee Club is…Glee.<p>

When Kurt finally walks in after two days of avoiding them, thirteen pairs of eyes including Mr. Schue stare at him. Blaine scowls at them behind Kurt's back, but Kurt just keeps his head high.

Rachel is the first to break the uneasy silence. "Hey, Kurt, we really missed you! We're—we're so glad you're back! We thought it'd be a few more days but—yeah." She grins, wide and bright. The rest of the club is in various states of approval and fear, obviously nervous about Kurt's reactions after that lunch and how he hadn't even gone this afternoon. Only Puck gives Kurt a slight nod and small smile.

"It's good to be back," Kurt says lightly. He stalks to the empty seat in the front next to Finn, Blaine right behind him. He sees Finn shift the slightest bit away and Kurt narrows his eyes, but lets it go. Sitting stiffly, Kurt tries to keep his head up. The amount of judging and silent gossip in the room is almost overpowering. He lets Blaine slide his arm around the back of his chair and relaxes slightly.

Mr. Schue claps his hands and grins. "Well, everyone, let's give Kurt a big welcome back!" He claps enthusiastically until the club follows murmurs small words of congrats to Kurt. Blaine's arm slips down to Kurt's waist and rests on his hip, warm and comforting.

As Mr. Schue starts to ramble on about teamwork, Kurt focuses on not freaking out. There are too many people here; too many people that he doesn't really trust. People that saw what was happening to him and let to go.

"I'm really glad you're back," a small voice whispers. Kurt turns to see Tina give him a shy wave from behind him. He nods slowly. "I—we—were going to visit you in the hospital, but Finn told us not to." She says, squeezing Mike's hand. Mike agrees quickly. "He thought it would just upset you, but we were thinking of you," and Kurt's so thankful that she says that instead of the generic "we were praying for you" shit everyone's been tell him. God wasn't with him growing up in Ohio and He certainly wasn't with Kurt in the locker room

Kurt manages to unstuck his voice. "Thanks," he says hoarsely. He really does like Mike and Tina. They are the only sane couple in Glee (other than himself and Blaine) and neither has ever purposely tried to hurt him. Blaine's hand tightens around his waist. "I appreciate it."

He catches Mercedes' eye as he turns back and she winks.

Slowly, Kurt starts to relax. He's safe here, among friends. Maybe not the greatest friends ever, but they all love him (or tolerate him) in their own way.

But it all goes to hell when they start dancing.

Mr. Schue wants them to do something with their hips for their first (as yet undetermined) song. Most of the class catches on, swaying seductively and giggling. Finn is hopeless as per usual and Blaine thinks the whole thing is fucking stupid, but it's Kurt that nearly falls on his ass more than once.

"Come on, Kurt, work your hips, I know you can do it!" Mr. Schue calls out. "You did 'Single Ladies' at that football game last year, I know you can dance!"

Blaine's eyebrows shoot up. "You did what?" He asks, impressed.

"Nothing," Kurt's cheeks burn. God this is humiliating. He can't get his muscles to cooperate, caught between the pain from his healing ribs and the residual reluctance to look, in any way, attractive. Karofsky's voice keeps speaking in his head, talking about how Kurt was _so sexy, with those hips, fucking asking for it._ He stumbles yet again, close to tears and Blaine's there to steady him.

Santana rolls her eyes and jabs Kurt in the side. "Yo, baby penguin, we're going for sex appeal here, not geriatric hip rolls." Brittany mumbles something about how she used to have a penguin but it ran away.

Kurt flinches back and Blaine steps forward to shove her. "Back off, Satan, don't be a bitch," he snaps.

She glares right back. "Listen, Hobbit, I wanna win this damn competition. And if we lose because Hummel over there can't do a goddamn pelvic thrust, Imma go all Lima Heights on your ass." A few people are nodding along, though they at least look guilty. Kurt feels every one of his barriers go up as he becomes the center of attention because even fucking _dancing_ throws him back in the locker room. He doesn't react when Blaine snarls and lifts his arm to attack the cheerleader.

Mike grabs Blaine before he can punch Santana, but then Sam steps up. "We should come together for the good of the team," he says, though he kind of ruins the altruistic approach by continually glancing back for Quinn's approval. "Maybe Kurt should sit this competition out," he smiles at Kurt apologetically. "What happened to you is a hard thing to come back from, and no one will blame you if you need to take a few months off. We need to think about the team, you know?"

Tina and Mercedes look furious and even Puck starts shaking his head. Lauren just raises her eyebrow as if amused at the insanity before her.

"He still has nightmares about Karofsky, we can't expect him to be okay with this," Sam continues and Kurt glares at Finn because really? At least Finn looks guilty and even Rachel rolls her eyes at him.

"What the fuck, Evans?" Puck puts in. "How can you talk about being a team when you're trying to kick Kurt out?"

"Guys, let's calm down," Mr. Schue starts, but no one listens to him. Even Brad the piano guy rolls his eyes at Mr. Schue's half-hearted attempts at control.

Sam draws himself up. "Someone has to step up, and if Hudson won't call out his step-brother on bringing us down, I will. We need to win this competition or else we're just losers again!"

"We can't punish Kurt for something that's not his fault!" Rachel says desperately. "Music is a healing tool; we can't just cut him off from singing!"

"Sam is right," Quinn takes her boyfriend's arm and eyes Kurt. "Look, we all love Kurt, but this clearly isn't good for him. He shouldn't be forced to sexualize himself so quickly after…you know."

"Kurt can make his own fucking decisions!" Blaine yells, pointing a finger in Quinn's face.

"Get off my girlfriend!" Sam shoves Blaine back.

"Stop being an asshole!" Tina shouts, and then the whole club dissolves into arguing and shouts and Kurt just sits on the nearest chair. His chest feels hollow, like he's nothing. He's so fucking useless.

Of all of them, Artie's the one to come over. "Yo, dude, wanna get out of here?" He says gently, and Kurt could kiss him even though he's wearing a tacky sweater vest with martini glasses on it. Blaine's too busy yelling at Sam for acting like a fuckhead and Finn for spilling all of Kurt's secrets to the biggest gossips in the school to notice Kurt sneaking out with Artie.

He concentrates on wheeling the chair and ignores the commotion behind him.

* * *

><p>Artie directs him to the auditorium. It's empty and silent as Kurt pushes him up the ramp. They sit near the edge of the stage; Kurt has his legs hanging off the side while Artie wheels up next to him.<p>

"Figured you needed a break from their crazy," Artie breaks the silence. Kurt just nods jerkily. If he talks, he'll cry. And even though Artie is one of the original five glee club members, they've never been close.

The auditorium is mostly dark except for the lights on the stage, and Kurt tries not to think about who might be hiding under the chairs. He picks at his sweatshirt, an old Ohio State one from Blaine.

"I'm sorry about them," Artie starts but Kurt shakes his head.

"Don't worry about it." He whispers. "They're probably right. I'd just ruin your chances at Regionals if I tried to dance. Can't even do a fucking hip pop," he says bitterly.

Artie laughs and Kurt stares at him in shock. "Neither can I," He waves at his paralyzed lower half. "I ain't dancing anytime soon."

Kurt flushes. "I didn't mean—"

"I know, don't worry about it." Artie waves his hand flippantly and rolls a little closer. "I don't think Sam really means anything he's saying. He's just worried Quinn is getting eyes for Finn now that Finchel is broken up—"

"'Finchel'?"

"Finn and Rachel." Artie explains. "You are Blaine are 'Klaine,' but don't tell him that."

Kurt actually giggles. "Yeah, that sounds way too adorable. He might punch you for that."

"Damn straight." Artie agrees. They quiet for second. "But anyway, Sam will get his head out of his ass in a couple days once Blaine and Puck rip into him. And Santana isn't that much of a bitch. She's been off ever since you left. And Quinn is scared of being a loser again after last year."

Kurt shrugs. They all have their reasons, but still. "It just hurts that they see me as a liability like that." He says softly.

Artie nods understandingly, then changes the subject to their shared chemistry class. They're still laughing over Artie's impression of their frog-like teacher, Mrs. Heinsmann, attempting to demonstrate a sodium-water reaction and blowing up half the classroom last week when Blaine finds them.

"Fucking club is fucking psychotic," Blaine growls as he pulls Kurt into a fierce hug. "Can we go home?" Kurt nods and starts to walk off, but he overhears Blaine talking and stops a few feet away. "Thanks for getting him out of there," he mutters to Artie.

"It got ugly, didn't it?" Artie says, resigned.

"Let's just say we're lucky Lauren stopped us from actually killing each other." Blaine gives him a significant look.

Kurt quickly turns and walks to the car.

Tomorrow is going to suck. He wonders if he's still in the Glee Club.

He wonders if he even wants to be.

* * *

><p>The next day, Kurt skips school to go to Karofsky's sentencing hearing. Their lawyer accepted the plea deal quickly and the judge preferred to get the hearing out of the way as soon as Karofsky was no longer bedridden. Burt didn't want to go, but Kurt did and managed to get Blaine to take him.<p>

Besides, he wasn't sure if he was even welcome among his friends anymore.

Unlike _Law and Order _with its grand, wooden rooms, the courtroom is nondescript with grey walls and a faded blue carpet as well as a few tables and half-filled benches. The judge is an older man, somewhat heavier and with a stern-face. He looks at Karofsky, who sits in front of him with his lawyer, with barely concealed contempt as the prosecutor outlines the plea deal. Karofsky turns slightly to glance at the audience, and Kurt holds back a gasp. White bandages are still wrapped around his head and Karofsky has an ugly yellow bruise across half of his face. Kurt really did a number on him.

Kurt is in the back, Blaine beside him. They'd slipped in just after the hearing started so Karofsky wouldn't see them. The detectives are in front of them. They'd simply nodded when Kurt sat down, though Detective Adler had looked apprehensive. Kurt didn't care. He needed to be here.

His dad doesn't even know about Kurt and Blaine skipping school. Blaine had been skeptical, but relented and agreed to drive. He knows Kurt. This is closure.

Also, Blaine still feels bad about Sebastian and Kurt's not too worked up about using it to his advantage.

Kurt studies the back of Karofsky's head. It's ducked down, though God only knows if it's in actual shame or because his lawyer told him to look repentant. His broad shoulders are tense though, like they got when he was in a particularly foul mood at McKinley. It usually means pain for Kurt, and he unconsciously grabs for Blaine's hand. The light squeeze brings him back and Kurt glances around the room at the rest of the audience.

On the other side of the room, alone, a couple huddles close with a young, wide-eyed girl. She's about twelve, with long brown hair and wet eyes, obviously confused and scared. She just stares at Karofsky. Her parents, both in their forties or fifties, don't take their eyes off Karofsky either. The man has his arm around his wife, who suddenly buries her head in his shoulders and sobs loudly at the charges being read. With a tired expression and sad eyes, the man rubs her back and grabs his now crying daughter's hand. Karofsky turns to look back at them and Kurt's heart jolts.

_Family_.

David Karofsky has a _family_, and they're sitting twelve feet away from him and listening to their son get sent to jail for almost killing a gay classmate.

Kurt's stomach lurches and he forces his body under control. For so long, he'd been able to build up Karofsky as some demon incapable of love and compassion. Just some guy, like he'd sprung up from the ground or something. No one would care about him. But that family sitting across from him loves Karofsky—_David_—and Kurt's just ruined their lives.

A hand winds itself around Kurt's waist and he's tugged towards Blaine. "You doin' okay?" Blaine whispers, though his voice is on edge. Blaine knows something's wrong. Karofsky's lawyer begins swearing that the plea is not being entered under duress and Kurt tunes the noise out. He can only see the little girl, looking at her brother and whispering frantically to her mom as her mom gets increasingly hysterical. Somehow, Kurt manages to unstuck his voice.

"That's his family." Kurt says softly, and then the little girl turns around and sees Kurt. Their eyes meet and Kurt can see the comprehension dawning on her face. Anger and hate bubble up in her big brown eyes and Kurt kind of wants to throw up at the force of it.

He can't even blame her. He's the guy responsible for putting her big brother in a coma for days; for smashing his face in and getting him arrested and making it so that she might not see him for almost two years. Fuck, David probably used to give her piggy back rides or braid her hair or steal her toys or give her extra cookies after dinner. He probably loves her, and she clearly adores him. Now Dave's in a stiff suit and about to get put in handcuffs and get taken away because of Kurt.

He takes a shuddery breath at the venomous expression directed at him, but the girl turns around and pointedly ignores him. Blaine, bless him, hugs Kurt even closer, hooking his chin over Kurt's shoulder and glaring at everyone that tries to give them the side-eye. Kurt should care about their surroundings, but it's Blaine. He tries to relax but still feels like crying. The Karofsky's are going to _hate_ him.

"Do you accept the terms of this plea deal?" The judge says, cutting through Kurt's reeling mind. He frowns at Karofsky.

"Yes, sir." Karofsky says, barely above a whisper. His mother cries harder.

"Very well." The judge sighs and rubs his eyes, tired. "Young man, I…" He trails off and shakes his head. "In all the years I have presided over this court, I have never had to hear about such wanton callousness between two juveniles like what was presented to me today. You acted in complete disregard to Mr. Hummel and damaged him both physically and emotionally."

Blaine squeezes Kurt's hand, pressing their shoulders together. The contact helps Kurt remember to breathe as the judge glances up at them. Mrs. Karofsky is almost wailing and Mr. Karofsky tries to soothe her, murmuring "everything's going to be alright." Their daughter turns and glares at Kurt again.

Karofsky doesn't answer the judge, though Kurt can see his shoulders shaking faintly. He's angry.

"Do you have anything to say in your defense before I sentence you?" The judge says.

A quiet _ow_ from next to him makes Kurt realized he is squeezing Blaine's hand hard enough to cut off circulation. He forces his fingers to relax.

Karofsky lifts his head and Kurt can't breathe. "I am sorry for all the trouble I caused." He says into the silent room.

_LIAR!_ Kurt's mind screams.

The judge glances up from his pile of papers disbelievingly. "Mr. Karofsky, you accepted a plea from the state for juvenile assault and harassment charges. As you are sixteen, you will be placed in a juvenile detention center until eighteen, after which you will be on probation until you are twenty-one. While at the center, you will undergo therapy and complete an anger management course. Some people are gay, Mr. Karofsky." The judge's frown deepens. "You will just have to learn to deal with it. Case dismissed." He knocks the gavel with a final blow before standing up and exiting. Kurt watches Karofsky close his eyes in defeat. It feels like a hollow victory.

The constable steps forward with handcuffs and then Mrs. Karofsky turns and catches sight of Kurt. Her face goes bloodless, then flushes with anger.

"Oh shit," Blaine mutters and starts pushing Kurt out of the row. "Seriously, Kurt, move, this won't go well, she's fucking psychotic."

She pulls away from her husband and starts marching towards Kurt with murder in her eyes. Kurt stands in the middle of the aisle and resists Blaine's insistent tugs. "I ruined her family's life, Blaine," he says sadly. "The least I can do is let her talk to me."

"Fuck, Kurt, she ain't coming over here to talk." Blaine glares at her but crosses his arms. He manages to look slightly intimidating and Mrs. Karofsky falters slightly at the warning in Blaine's eyes. But she gets past it when she's in front of Kurt and shaking with anger, nostrils flaring and looking a little like a pissed off bull. She eyes Blaine like he's scum before turning her glare on Kurt.

Up close, Mrs. Karofsky is much older than Kurt thought. The hasty make-up does a poor job of hiding the bags under her eyes and wrinkles line her mouth and forehead. Her eyes, though, are shiny with hate and fury.

"This is all your fault," she hisses, jabbing a finger into his chest. Kurt takes at step back but she's right there. Dimly he hears the detectives trying to calm her and pull her away but she won't have it. "Your fault! My son—my _Dave_—thinks he's _a fag_ because of you! His whole life is ruined because you couldn't keep your preferences to yourself!"

Kurt's stomach plummets somewhere to the bottom of his feet. The conversation in the hospital comes back and Kurt's heart clenches painfully. She really did care more about the fact that Dave had attacked a _boy_ than the fact that Dave attacked someone at all.

"—fucking harpy, leave my boyfriend the fuck alone!" Blaine is shouting and shoving her back when Kurt's aware again. "This isn't Kurt's responsibility! _This_ is 'cause your damn son couldn't figure out how to keep his dick in his pants!"

"How _dare_ you, you little _criminal_—"

"Kurt's fucking innocent here, you fucking cunt!" Blaine spits out. Kurt can't even breathe as she watches Blaine flip out on this woman, barely even feels Detective Adler's comforting grip on his arm as she gently tugs him away from the confrontation. Blaine's face is red and he just keeps going, cursing every few words. He does that when he's pissed. "_Your son_ is a fucking _rapist_, and flaming gay; gayer than fucking Neil Patrick Harris with his cock up David Burtka's ass while on a unicorn that shits rainbows!" Honestly, Kurt kind of wants to laugh at the absolutely horrified expression on Mrs. Karofsky's face, but his stomach still twists painfully and he concentrates on not completely losing it. The media is already going to have a field day; he shouldn't add to it.

"Stop it! Dave's not like that; Dave's not sick!" a shrill voice interrupts. The little girl is at her mom's side and clutching her arm. "Mom, bring Dave back, he's not bad; he's good, I promise! Bring him back!" She looks back to see Karofsky frozen at the door, hands in handcuffs behind his back and his expression full of anguish as he watches his family confront Kurt. His eyes drag up to meet Kurt's, a mixture of hate and sorrow and resignation.

Kurt's breath hitches and he's going to burst into tears in front of all these people, he just knows it. "I'm sorry," he whispers. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Kurt stops when a large hand, not unlike his father's, comes down gently on his shoulders. He looks up to see a tired man with a grey beard. Karofsky's dad.

"It's not your fault," the man says, ignoring his wife's shriek of indignation. "I apologize that we didn't find out what was going on with Dave sooner." Blaine scoffs, but Kurt just watches this man carefully. He and Karofsky have the same eyes, but his lack the hate and fear Karofsky's usually hold. Mr. Karofsky gathers his sobbing daughter up in his arms and nudges his wife to move. "Karen, let's go; Dave needs us," he says evenly.

Her eyes flash. "No, John, _no_. This—_sick_—boy; and his insane _accusations_ have ruined David's life!" She rounds on Kurt, who steps back at the pointed finger in his face. "_My son is not a fag."_ She hisses and Kurt's knees shake. He opens his mouth wordlessly.

What can he possibly say to that?

He didn't make this up. He _didn't_.

How had he wound up as the bad guy in this mess?

Karen gets dragged back by Detective Adler and Blaine pulls Kurt out of the room. Her screams and threats follow Kurt and he focuses on Blaine's hands as he runs, half-blinded by tears. Just before the door closes, Kurt risks looking back. Karofsky is frozen at the sight of his mother screaming at the constable and police officers while his father and sister cry off to the side. Then Blaine whisks him away and the faces are blocked by the heavy wooden door.

Kurt doesn't even wait to get outside before hugging Blaine close and hiding his face in boyfriend's shoulder. His lungs hurt from holding his breath and his eyes burn with unshed tears. Warm arms wrap around his back and Kurt squeezes Blaine's jacket between his fingers. He's warping the fabric, but fuck it. A shaky sob escapes his mouth.

One of Blaine's hands finds its way into Kurt's hair and strokes comfortingly. The other hold his lower back and Kurt feels so _loved _and _safe_ and _protected_ that he can't stop himself from breaking down into deep, harsh sobs.

"C'mon, we're taking this to the car," Blaine suddenly says, tense. Kurt freezes, scared. Something was wrong. He wipes his wet face quickly. "Keep your eyes forward, ok?" Blaine let go of Kurt and harshly pushes him towards the parking lot, face grim.

Kurt doesn't protest, and they've almost escaped when a hysterical female voice screams after them "_FAGGOTS!" _The words slice into Kurt and he speeds up, just needing to be the hell away.

He suddenly realizes why Blaine thought coming to the hearing was a bad idea.

* * *

><p>Blaine drives them home. He keeps stealing glances at Kurt when he thinks Kurt isn't looking, but Kurt just draws his knees up to chest and watches the scenery fly by. Stupid. Kurt is so fucking <em>stupid<em>.

"Can we not tell Dad?" Kurt whispers, avoiding Blaine's eyes. He really can't deal with his father right now.

Blaine doesn't answer right away, but sighs. "Yeah, I guess." He says grumpily. They fall back into silence.

"I hadn't thought about them before." Kurt picks at his nails. It feels better to talk about it, but it's still hard. Blaine looks at him but doesn't offer anything, letting Kurt sort out his thoughts. "K-Karofsky was just this _guy_." His throat closes up and Kurt breathes deeply. "You know; just some random _asshole_ that made my life hell. But he has a family. People that love him; people that are going to miss him." Kurt hugs himself. He's such an ass. This is all his fault. "I ruined his life. Their lives. They won't recover from this." He whispers.

The car pulls over to a random parking lot in front of a generic convenience store. Blaine stops the car and looks at Kurt hard. "You once told me I had no responsibility over Karofsky's actions. That I couldn't have stopped him." Blaine lets a hand fall on Kurt's shoulder and strokes firmly with his thumb until Kurt meets his eyes. "It's a two-way street, babe. He fucked up his own life."

"But—"

"No. It's not your fault! Why can't you understand that? _It's not your fault!_" Blaine growls in frustration and suddenly hits the steering wheel. Kurt jumps at the display of violence and Blaine sighs. "Fuck. That's not—_fuck_." He rubs his face roughly with his hands and then glares at the dashboard.

The car is silent except for Blaine's harsh breaths as he tries to calm himself down. Guilt twists in his stomach, but Kurt waits for Blaine to collect himself.

"I love you." Blaine suddenly says.

Kurt wrinkles his brow in confusion. "I love you too," he says, because it's _Blaine_, Kurt loves the shit out of him, but Blaine shakes his head.

"No, Kurt. I _love _you. Like, a whole fucking lot." Blaine glances at him and tugs on a silver ring in his ear. "I hate it when you blame yourself for thing you didn't do. The Glee club is insane and fucking _Karofsky_ doesn't deserve your sympathy. Neither does his damn family; especially that whore bitch." Blaine growls the last few words. "You're better than them. Better than all of them." Blaine crosses his arms, holding them tight to his body.

"I'm trying to remember." Kurt says softly. He looks outside the window at the fading sun.

Blaine throws the car in drive and pulls out of the small lot.

"We're getting drunk tonight." He suddenly says with a smirk.

Kurt's eyes widen. "_What-_are you insane, we are not!" He almost yells indignantly.

Blaine just snorts and shoots Kurt a girn. "Just for tonight. We're going to go to my house and drink shit and completely fucking relax because the whole world sucks and we deserve to be happy for once." Blaine's eyes darken as he glances over at Kurt and Kurt licks his dry lips at the amount of love and lust in them.

And oh God, it's tempting. To just give up for now, to surrender to his emotions. But he needs to at least try to be responsible. "I don't even like alcohol." He says unconvincingly and Blaine laughs.

"That's what strawberry Smirnoff is for; my innocent little one," he says, phone already out and texting. Probably Puck, and Kurt _really_ needs to stop that friendship before Blaine gets sent to juvie again, but he's much too empty from the hearing and Karofsky and families at the moment to worry.

"We're going to be a complete mess tonight, aren't we?" Kurt sighs and Blaine grins, even though Kurt totally hasn't actually agreed yet. But he pretty much has.

"When aren't we?" Blaine grins and threads his fingers through Kurt's.

It's kind of perfect.

* * *

><p><strong>AN-**

**Thanks for reading and reviewing guys! I appreciate all of you!**

**I think there's going to be maybe 4 or 5 more chapters. I think. Kurt's getting there and starting to understand how Karofsky's attack affects more people than just himself.**

**About the Glee club, I promise you I don't actually hate any of them (Although Brittany and Rachel and Finn tend to annoy me), and I have good reasons for some of them to act like asshats. Basically, just know that people react differently when their friends are attacked. They're not all supportive, I've seen it.**

**Anyway, thanks for the support, love you guys!**


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N -**

**Wow you guys have exactly zero faith in me! Just read on =]**

**Warnings- blink and you miss it smut (I'm upping the rating to M later today , just fyi) (and I really mean it's LIGHT), underage drinking**

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><p>Blaine is right. Strawberry-flavored Smirnoff is <em>fantastic.<em>

Giggling, Kurt knocks back another shot and leans against Blaine's side, reveling in the warmth from the alcohol spreading through his chest as well as the small fire in the fireplace in front of them. Blaine's house is gorgeous and empty and Kurt kind of loves it. It's like their own, in the future maybe.. They're about halfway through a fifth, and Kurt shakily gets the shot glass on Blaine's coffee table and is about to pour his (fifth? sixth?) shot when Blaine tugs the bottle out of his hands because he sucks and is an awful boyfriend, the asshole.

"Nonono, bring it back!" Kurt makes grabby hands but the alcohol messes with his balance and he tumbles into Blaine's lap. Kurt growls against Blaine's jeans and sulks, head starting to swim. Being drunk is awesome and shitty at the same time. He nuzzles into Blaine's thigh, thoughts fuzzy but content. It's so warm here. Blaine's dick gives an interesting twitch near his face and Kurt eyes the jean-enclosed bump appraisingly. Sex can feel amazing, Kurt knows. He kind of wants to do that for Blaine, but…

God, it's so hard to make sense of his thoughts when the room won't stay still. Kurt growls to himself because it's _so hard to think._ And thoughts hurt. When he thinks, he remembers the hearing and Mrs. Karofsky and David and his friends and he just wants it to _stop, leave me alone!_

"No more shots for you, sweetheart," Blaine says sternly, sounding way too coherent for a guy that's had just as much to drink as Kurt. He actually laughs at Kurt's pathetic attempts to glare. "Trust me; you'll thank me in the morning." And then, because Blaine is an _asshole_, he takes a swig himself, though he coughs after swallowing.

Kurt sits up and tries to ignore his spinning head. Those shots were starting to catch up to him. "I'm depressed and traumatized and you are supposed to be getting me drunk." Kurt works his face into a pout because he knows Blaine can't resist him like that. Sure enough, Blaine's eyes flick down to Kurt's lips and that blush doesn't have much to do with alcohol. Blaine swallows hard and _oh_, that is attractive. Kurt watches the muscles in Blaine's throat move and he really wants to—

_Woah_. Kurt flushes at the decidedly non-PG thoughts making themselves known in his head. They involve Blaine, under him and panting, and way less clothes.

He presses a hand to his forehead and squeezes his eyes shut, trying to calm his breathing because _shit_, he's simultaneously turned on and scared as hell. Kurt's a fucking teenager, he should be jumping at the chance for sex but he can't get past that damn _block _in his head. A picture of Sebastian and his sexy texts and stupid smirk pops into his head and Kurt scowls at the cup that gets thrust into his hand.

Fucking Sebastian. He's not going to be part of tonight. No. Kurt wipes him from his mind. "What's this?" he asks Blaine instead, lifting the cup.

"Sprite and vodka." Blaine says in explanation. "We might as well finish this shit since Mom's gone for the night and I can't exactly hide this, but I don't want you taking any more shots. Drink slowly, and tell me if you feel sick." Ignoring that last part because Kurt really just wants to _forget_, he drains half the cup in a single gulp.

It hits him like a sledgehammer right after and Kurt starts laughing because he doesn't care about _anything_. Fire rushes through Kurt's veins as he really _looks _at Blaine for the first time since the attack.

Blaine is fucking attractive in the soft firelight; Christ. Wide eyes blown with small traces of lust, some alcohol, and a lot of love. A tight shirt showing off a narrow waist and gorgeous arms. Thick, curly hair that feels amazing when fingers run through it. Kurt's breathing picks up as he looks at Blaine, not hearing a single word Blaine's saying and instead focusing on how _perfect_ this specimen of boy is.

He just really wants to kiss Blaine.

And he waits, but nothing changes. There's no David Karofsky; grinding into him and sucking on his neck and trying to kill him; no faceless media painting him as a whore; no judging eyes mocking him for daring to be gay. Just Blaine and his gorgeous face and _arms_ and _body_ and _shit_ he wants Blaine so bad.

It's the alcohol that gives him courage and it probably won't last, but Kurt Hummel wants to make out with his boyfriend and he's going to take every second he can get.

Blaine's still saying something stupid and irrelevant when Kurt puts down the cup and grabs Blaine's shirt to yank him in for a kiss before Blaine can react. The slight buzz in his head messes with Kurt's coordination and he winds up getting the corner of Blaine's mouth until Blaine catches on and slots their lips together.

_Shit_, Kurt missed this. He grins into Blaine's mouth, drowning himself in the faint taste of strawberries and the feeling of Blaine's hands threading through his hair and resting on his waist. Blaine gasps into his mouth and Kurt feels a sharp thrill of _want_ shoot through his body and then he's climbing into Blaine's lap and straddling his waist and he's thinking of nothing but _Blaine _and _love_ and Kurt kind of wants to cry from how perfect it is.

Fuck everyone. Just fuck them. Kurt Hummel is in love with Blaine Anderson and wants to mess around with him and he is tired of being scared. Not anymore. The alcohol burns through him and everything is hot and heavy he can't even _think_ but Kurt really doesn't care as he pushes Blaine to the floor and gently yanks on Blaine's thick curls to get him to tilt up and open his mouth for Kurt, grinding down slightly and gasping at the sharp thrill of pleasure shooting through his cock and up his spine.

"Oh, _fuck_, Blaine," Kurt can barely get his thoughts coherent with the lust and _fucksohot _running around his head, but he has Blaine under him and he's rolling his hips down and thrusting and then their cocks slide together _perfectly_ and Blaine sucks Kurt's tongue into his mouth and _this_ must be why everyone is so obsessed with sex because it's beyond words.

Kurt thrusts again, harder, and Blaine's hands squeeze at his ass and then one slips under his shirt and presses against hot, sweaty skin and Kurt's is completely lost in ecstasy and bliss and soft whimpers and breathless moans and _godsofuckinggood _until Blaine suddenly shoves him off. Kurt lets out a completely undignified squawk as he falls back on his ass and glares at a relatively debauched Blaine.

"What the fuck Blaine?!" Kurt snaps, because _hello_, they had a good thing going, what was up with Blaine?

Blaine shakes his head, breathing heavily and sitting up, purposefully away from Kurt. "You're drunk."

"Well no _shit_, Blaine, _you're _the one that wanted me to be," Kurt growls and leans in to catch Blaine's reddened lips between his own, but then Blaine pushes him back _again_. "Blaine!" Kurt glares at his idiot boyfriend.

"Kurt, wait." Blaine's expression is tortured and full of longing, but he rubs his face harshly. "_Fuck_. Come on, Kurt. You can barely kiss me sober."

Honestly, Kurt's not following. He's drunk, like _really_ drunk, and horny, and not thinking about the attack for the first time in like, ever. He _wants_ this. He wants to be fucking _normal _for once and have some kind of sex with his damn boyfriend like every other teenager in a relationship in the country and Blaine won't let him because he _sucks. _One look at Blaine and Kurt groans angrily. Blaine is totally going to hold out and it's for some stupid reason, Kurt just knows it. "I want to do this _now_, when I'm not _thinking_ so much." Kurt crosses his legs in a huff, wincing at the sudden swimming in his head with the movement. Figures the one time he can be normal and sane Blaine decides to grow a conscious. Kurt crosses his arms and glowers at the fireplace.

Blaine slides up next to him, one arm winding around his waist and head resting on Kurt's shoulder. Kurt keeps himself stiff and tries to slide his shoulder away but Blaine just hugs him closer to his side and Kurt gives up with a huff. Fucking starfish.

"You're making decisions for me again." Kurt snipes. "I told you not to."

"Who said this is because of you?" Blaine shoots back, eyes flashing in anger. "Not everything's about you, Hummel." He sits up and scoots away from Kurt, grabbing the bottle and looking like he's considering just downing the last few ounces himself.

Kurt is taken aback at the sudden anger in Blaine's tone, but then he sees how Blaine's eyes have gone big and watery and _shit._ Something else is going on.

"Hey." Kurt fights past the vertigo in his body and leans over to take the vodka from Blaine's hand. He lets it go without a fight, and Kurt can't help himself from stroking down Blaine's arms a few times before holding his hands. He just really likes Blaine's biceps.

Kurt shakes his head to get his thoughts back on track.

"Come on, Blaine. What's that mean?"

"Nothin'," Blaine mutters, but he won't look at Kurt.

"_Blaine."_

"Christ, Kurt, can't you leave me alone for like, five seconds?!" Blaine shouts and tries to stand, but he's too dizzy and he falls back on his ass with a frustrated groan. "_Fuck_."

Hesitantly, Kurt reaches over and slowly rubs Blaine's back. He's always liked it when Blaine does that. Blaine doesn't say a word, just glares at the crackling fire in the fireplace. It's dying down now, both of them long ago too drunk to dare put another log on.

"My first time…" Blaine sniffs and growls at himself. "My first time kind of sucked." He says bluntly.

Kurt just waits.

"It was like…two years ago? Three?" Blaine shook his head. "I don' know. It was right before I started dressin' like this and stealing Dad's booze. I'd literally just come out, like the week before, and Dad was just _yelling_ at me and calling me a fag and whore and a cockslut an' all that," Blaine glances at Kurt. "And fourteen-year-old me decided it would be a fantastic idea to go out and prove him right." He laughs bitterly. "If I'm gonna get called that kind of shit, might as well earn it, right?"

"Blaine…"

He shakes his head. "I know, it was stupid. Anyway, I was going to this fancy boarding school at the time and I knew one of the seniors was gay and thought I was cute so I went to his room and let him get me smashed and then we were in his bed." Blaine fiddles with his fingers. "It wasn't bad or anything and it kind of hurt, but he was nice enough. It's just…I felt like shit after."

Kurt's throat is tight with trying not to cry when Blaine's red-rimmed eyes drag up to meet his.

Blaine tugs on his earrings. "Look, I wasn't ready then. I just wasn't, and it fucked me up for a while. I must have slept through, like, half of Dalton by the time Dad pulled me out, and I was a borderline alcoholic. I hated myself for that. For using sex to get back at my dad instead of for me, you know?" He looks at Kurt so pleadingly that Kurt can only nod. "I just don't want to be something you'd ever regret," Blaine mutters, sniffing and trying to mask it with a cough.

"You couldn't be." Kurt says instantly. "But…"

"I don't want to take advantage of you." Blaine admits quietly and Kurt turns his head to look at him surprised. Shrugging, Blaine sighs. "I ain't stupid, Kurt. If you weren't completely shitfaced, you'd be borrowed under a blanket or somethin' n' kicking me out of the room if I tried to have sex with you." Blaine traces a random pattern on Kurt's knee. "I'm not that guy." He says stubbornly.

Kurt feels a little like the floor's been yanked out from under his feet and he drops his head to rest on Blaine's soft curls, breathing in Blaine's scent. He's right, so completely right, Kurt's such an ass. He's not ready for this, he _knows_ that, and it's unfair to use Blaine like that to force himself to be.

"You're way too good for me," Kurt sighs. He feels Blaine snort next to him, and Kurt laughs a little. One day he'll convince Blaine he's actually the greatest person Kurt's ever met. One day. But they're way too hammered to have that conversation tonight, so Kurt changes the subject. "Never thought I'd see a drunk you that turns down sex, though," Kurt comments, glancing down at Blaine's fairly obvious hard-on.

"Yeah, my dick kind of hates me right now," Blaine says, looking at his crotch sadly.

"Least you aren't making out with Rachel this time," Kurt quips, laughing at Blaine's groan. He's over that. Mostly. Won't stop him from teasing Blaine about for a while though because Kurt is kind of a bitch. He smiles innocently at Blaine's mock glare.

"You're hotter than her. And have the right plumbing." Blaine says cheekily before sidling back up next to Kurt. The fire gives a loud pop. The red cup sits innocently on the table in front of them and Kurt decides to hell with it, and leans over to grab it, taking small sips. He holds it out to Blaine, who shakes his head and leans on Kurt.

"Thank you, Blaine." Kurt says quietly.

Blaine just shrugs but threads their fingers together. They watch the fire slowly die down.

Tomorrow, they'll have to go back to school. And Kurt will have to face his idiot friends, the ones who stood up for him and the ones who want him gone.

But for tonight, he's with his boyfriend. Who's kind of amazing. Kurt stands up, a little wobbly, and grabs the soft fleece blanket from the couch. He drapes it over himself and Blaine, shifting in close.

It's a little warm and itchy, but he's next to Blaine. The alcohol and the warmth from the flames make him sleepy and Kurt starts to doze, listening to Blaine's soft breathing.

"Love you, Blaine."

"Love you too, Kurt."

* * *

><p><strong>AN -**

**See, nothing too bad happened! Relax!**

**I don't condone underage drinking! If you do it, you will get pregnant and die! =]**

**I figured we needed this after the new Glee spoilers because seriously writers? Seriously?**

**Anyway, constructive criticism is really welcome because I don't write smut like ever. Also feel free to talk to me on tumblr =]**

**Thanks again for all the support guys!**


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N- I'm not completely thrilled with it, but October is going to be a busy month so I figured I'd finish this for you guys.**

**For the record, I had planned this out weeks ago. I'm kind of vaguely following season 2's storyline, just fyi. Though Blaine is a junior with Kurt because fuck canon.**

**Warnings- pretty tame actually, swearing, Rachel being an idiot, mentions of possible infidelity**

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><p>New Directions wins their Regionals.<p>

Kurt spends the day teaching Blaine how to bake cookies and Blaine somehow convinces Kurt to put pink highlights in his hair. He looks so excited when he shows up waving around the bottle of hair dye (and it was one of the expensive ones; Blaine knows Kurt isn't going to permanently damage his hair with the cheap generic brands at Party City), that Kurt doesn't the heart to say no.

Later, Kurt decides he does look pretty hot with the bright pink standing out from the brown. And Blaine can't keep his hands off it; continually running his fingers through Kurt's hair, which feels nice. Kurt puts his foot down about the nose piercing though.

His dad just rolls his eyes and Finn stares in shock, but Mercedes and Tina think it's hilarious and Blaine takes pleasure in their awe. He walks around the school behind Kurt with a big, self-satisfied smirk, laughing at every double-take in the hallway. Predictably, Rachel nearly has a heart attack, but Kurt only needs to ask her about the competition to get her to calm down.

Still, though, Kurt hasn't been to Glee in two weeks.

And he hasn't talked to Sam or Quinn in just as long, even after Quinn got caught cheating on Sam _again_ with _Finn _of all people and Sam broke up with her. Santana muttered a half-hearted apology a few days ago, but only because Brittany made her. He appreciated it, though, because she seemed pretty sincere. And she told off some sophomore for gossiping about him the next day by threatening to eviscerate one of their _cojones_ if they ever implied Kurt was a lying slut again.

It was the thought that counted.

In any case, Kurt is definitely not expecting to close his locker one day in March to see a very guilty-looking Sam leaning on the doors with a sad puppy face that rivals Blaine's.

Kurt's chest tightens and he can't breathe, suddenly thrown back into the choir room and feelings of _worthless _and _broken_ wash over him again. Luckily, his mouth still works.

"I am not nearly drunk enough to handle you at the moment, Evans, spit it out." Kurt snaps.

Sam raises his eyebrows. "Dude, your _hair_. Blaine is like, way rubbing off on you," he says, almost wonderingly.

There's an innuendo in there (and wow, Sam was right, he was spending entirely too much time with his boyfriend), but Kurt ignores it in favor of staring Sam down with a death glare. "I like my hair." Kurt says imperiously. "You have about three minutes before Blaine gets here and he still wants to kick your ass, so make this quick." Kurt shuts his locker and turns to face Sam.

Sam sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. There's no way it's actually that blonde; Kurt can see the brown roots. _I knew it, _he thinks, but then Sam is talking.

"I'm sorry." Sam says.

"For?"

"For being an asshole." Sam looks at the floor. "I was using you to help myself and I shouldn't have." Kurt doesn't answer, so Sam continues. "Look, it was a stupid thing to do. And I'm really sorry." Sam looks up with tired eyes, and the expression is…familiar.

It's how Blaine used to look before Kurt found out about his father. Overwhelmed and exhausted.

"What's really going on, Sam?" Kurt whispers. He waits while Sam flinches then sighs. "It's ok. I won't tell anyone. King of secrets over here, remember?" Kurt smiles faintly when Sam reluctantly nods. "It's gonna be alright." He says, reaching out his hand and rubbing Sam's arm comfortingly before he can stop himself. He drops it quickly when he remembers that he's still in the very public hallway in McKinley, but the contact seems to have helped Sam, who gives Kurt a watery smile.

"My dad and my mom lost their jobs. We just—we lost our house last month and I know it's not an excuse but we moved into a motel like the day you came back to Glee and I was so scared of Quinn finding out and…yeah." Sam cuts himself off with a wet sniff. "_Crap_. I'm sorry, I know it's not fair, but there's five of us on two beds and the floor and I keep cancelling on Artie and Finn and Puck cause there's no one else to watch my little brother and sister and I just…" He waves his arm vaguely. "I don't know."

Sam was poor. If it were Blaine or Rachel or Tina, Kurt hug them because Sam is so clearly _not okay_, but it's Sam, so Kurt keeps his distance.

He can still help though.

"Want some company tonight?" He says hesitantly. "I just…you look exhausted. I can bring over some of my old clothes, they should fit you—the less crazy ones, I promise—and I can help watch your siblings. Little kids are sweet." Kurt tries to catch Sam's eye and smiles when Sam breaks into a shy grin.

"You wouldn't mind?"

"Of course not. I can paint fantastic fingernails after all." Kurt winks. He sobers up slightly when a thought occurs to him. "I know you probably don't want to tell anyone, but…I don't want to keep things from Blaine." He sighs when Sam's face pales. "Sam, please, I can't lie to him and he's going to want to know where I am because I was supposed to hang out with him tonight."

"I don't want you guys to fight 'cause of me. 'Specially since he hates me." Sam groans. "Um. Tell him you're helping me babysit my brother and sister. I'll tell him tomorrow why."

Over Sam's shoulder, Kurt sees Blaine step around the corner and frown at the sight of Sam talking to Kurt. "Shit," Kurt mutters as Blaine starts walking towards them. "Yeah, ok. I can do that. I'd move, though, Blaine's coming."

Sam's eyes widen. "And I'm gone. See ya, Kurt. And thanks." With a quick smile, Sam brushes past Kurt and disappears into the crowd.

"What'd he want?" Blaine says without any preamble, scowling after Sam's retreating back. His arm automatically curls around Kurt's waist possessively and Kurt fights the urge to roll his eyes. He leans back into the embrace, though.

"To apologize. And ask for a favor." Kurt glares at Blaine. "Stop that. He's a good person, he means the apology. And I'm allowed to forgive him."

"I didn't say anything," Blaine grumbles and leans his head in. "Mmm, you smell good." Blaine's voice goes lower and a sharp thrill goes through Kurt's body. "Can't wait for tonight baby," Blaine grins against the skin on the back of Kurt's neck.

Of all the days, seriously…

"Blaine. Blaine, stop, hang on." Kurt almost groans when Blaine presses his lips to Kurt's, but holds it in. "We can't tonight. That favor Sam asked. I told him I'd help him babysit his little brother and sister."

Blaine raises an eyebrow. "O…kay…" he draws out, still looking at Kurt like he's insane. "What time does he want us over?"

"Just me." Kurt says quickly. A hurt look flashes over Blaine's flash and guilt twists his stomach. Oh, he has to be so careful here. "Blaine, it's not because of you. It's not, it's just…" Kurt sighs. "We're together all the time. I need some time to be _me_, you know?"

"You're not 'you' when you're with me?" Blaine's voice lowers petulantly and Kurt bites back a growl of frustration.

"Stop it. You know that's not true." Kurt says firmly. He waits until Blaine reluctantly nods. "I just think we should be allowed to hang out with other people too. You can't just be with me all the time; you have friends you haven't seen outside of school in weeks. Mike's been asking about you, by the way. I told him you're just bad with actually answering your phone."

Blaine's face perks up. "He said he got that new _Resident Evil_ game in Calc." Blaine muses, digging in his pocket for his phone. There're about ten unread messages from what Kurt could see, and Kurt just sighs internally. _Blaine._

"Good, text him and go have a boys' night." Kurt grins. "I'm going to be painting little girls' nails and playing with Power Rangers."

Blaine laughs, already typing out a message. "Dork." He teases. "Can we go to your house for a little bit though?"

Kurt dangles his keys in front of Blaine's face. "Come on, my little zombie hunter," he sing-songs, walking towards the doors in the now empty hallway. "I need to remind you who you're fighting for."

"Damn right!"

* * *

><p>The motel on the outskirts of town is small and dingy and there's only three other cars in the parking lot when Kurt pulls up. His shiny Navigator looks out of place among the twenty-year-old Toyotas and Chevys. Kurt double checks the number on the text Sam sent him and drives slowly towards a room in the back. <em>053<em>, the faded numbers on the red door says. Kurt parks in front and takes a second to breathe.

Poor Sam.

Sighing, Kurt got out of his car and walks around to the trunk, pulling out a huge bag of clothes for Sam (Blaine helped him clean part of his closet, though he though Kurt was donating them to Goodwill or something), and some old games he used to play as a kid. Maybe the Evanses would like them.

From his back pocket, his phone vibrates and Kurt fumbles with the bags in his hand until he can get it out and unlocked.

_From: Blaine  
>Zombie kill count: 23. Do I get a reward tomorrow? Have fun with Beiber puck says he was supposed to come tonight<em>

Despite himself, Kurt grins and texts back one handed as he walks up the steps, trying to ignore the stab of guilt from lying to Blaine. Even though he didn't really lie, just…stretch the truth. That sounds better. Kurt jams his phone in his back pocket and is about to knock on the door when it's pulled open by a little blond girl with a huge grin.

"Are you Kurt? Sammy said you were coming tonight and that you'd paint my nails and do my hair and play dolls with me, 'cause Stevie won't and Sammy just messes everything up. You have pink hair." She delivers her speech in one breath and then looks at Kurt expectantly.

"Um—"

"Stacey, give Kurt time to breathe before you attack him." Sam comes up behind her and nudges her towards the inside of the room. She pouts but turns and disappears behind Sam. "Sorry about that. They're just getting a little bored being stuck in the room with only a TV, you know?" Sam tries to smile but it falls flat. He opens the door wider and steps aside so Kurt could come in. "What's with the bags?" He asks curiously.

"Clothes for you; some things I thought they'd enjoy," Kurt says absently, looking around the room. It's small, with two queen beds, a table, a chair, a TV set, and a set of drawers. And the worst color scheme ever. Some gross green and light yellow. Stacey is laying on one of the beds with another little boy, also blonde. Probably Stevie. They ignore the cartoons on the TV in favor of watching Kurt with huge eyes as he puts down the stuffed trash bags.

"Are we getting toys?" Stacey asks, eyes huge.

"Stacey," Sam says sternly. She sticks her tongue out at him, but still looks longingly at the bags. Stevie turns back to the TV.

Kurt hands the heavier one to Sam. "Those are yours. Keep them; sell them; it doesn't really matter." He grins at Sam's face when he looks inside and inspects a tan trench coat. "They aren't too worn; you should get a decent price for them. And for you two," Kurt winks at the kids. "I brought some of my old games. Anyone up for CandyLand?"

Stevie's eyes perk up at the sight of the brightly colored box and Stacey launches herself off the bed with an excited shriek.

"I CALL BLUE!" she shouts, practically climbing on Kurt to get to the box. Sam peels her off so Kurt can sit down and the game up on the floor. Shyly, Stevie sits next to Kurt and helps unfold the gameboard.

"You wanna shuffle the cards for me?" Kurt asks gently. Stevie nods enthusiastically and grabs the deck, though they promptly spill across the floor. He seems to have fun shuffling them like that though; just spreading them out and gathering them back up. Stacey plops down on Kurt's other side and winds an arm around his.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" she asks loudly, and Sam groans. "Cause Sammy used to, but she doesn't come play with us anymore."

"I liked her when she wasn't talking about being a cheerleader," Stevie mumbles.

"Um…" Kurt looks at Sam helplessly. Would the kids be okay with him if they knew he was gay? Thankfully, Sam intervened.

"Kurt's got a boyfriend. He's off-limits to you, Stacey." He winks at Kurt as Stacey scrunches her face up in confusion.

"But you're a boy." She tells Kurt.

"Well, yes, but I like boys, just like you do. I'm gay." Kurt waits for an explosion, for a million questions, but Stacey just shrugs and picks out the blue game piece. Stevie looks interested though.

"Can we see a picture of him? Your boyfriend?" he asks so quietly Kurt almost didn't hear him. However, Kurt really can't resist showing Blaine off, so he takes out his phone and quickly finds his favorite picture of himself and Blaine. It was from soon after they were official, still happy and blissful. Blaine had Kurt pulled into his lap with his arms wrapped around Kurt's waist and his chin hooked over Kurt's shoulder. Both were grinning into the camera. Kurt smiled softly before turning his phone around to show the Evanses.

"That's Blaine," he says.

Stacey coos and Stevie immediately questions Kurt about earrings, and Kurt almost wants to cry from the simple acceptance from children. How is it that two kids barely into double digits are better people than a full-grown woman who thinks it's acceptable to scream at a gay teenager her son attacked?

Some things in life just don't make sense.

* * *

><p>In school the next day, Kurt finds out just how true that is.<p>

"Stop it."

"Stop what?" Kurt doesn't even look up from his phone when Rachel Berry plants herself in front of him. Blaine had just texted to ask if he wanted biscotti this morning and Kurt finds his boyfriend a hell of a lot more interesting and bearable than Rachel before his morning coffee.

"Look, I know Sam's cute and all, but he's not worth it!" Rachel says, her eyes wide and pleading. Kurt looks up at that. A girl walking past them shoots Kurt a quick look before burying her head in her paper, and seriously, _what the fuck_. Kurt refocuses on Rachel.

Maybe simple words would help. "Excuse me?"

Rachel actually gets more frantic. "I saw Sam wearing your jacket! And I know what that's like, Finn coming over, leaving his jacket, me wearing it to school the next day…"

It clicks in Kurt's head.

"You think I'm cheating on Blaine. With Sam." Kurt says icily. Jesus _fuck_ how was this spinning out of control this quickly? The rumor mill in this godforsaken town is disgusting. He slowly counts to ten in his head. Nope. Still mad.

"Well what else are we supposed to think after you two were spotted at a motel last night? Together?" Rachel leans in and lowers her voice. "Kurt, Blaine really loves you. You have to stop."

_Shit, shit, shit._ "I'm not cheating on Blaine." He says automatically. "Wait, how do you know where I was last night?" He thought he was done with reporters and paparazzi after Karofsky got sentenced, but…

Rachel fumbles in her bag and producea\s a folded newspaper.

"_The Muckraker_?" Kurt reads with a raised eyebrow. "Wasn't this shut down last year when the editor used it to bully people?"

"Who cares! Just read it!" Rachel points at the article below the title of the paper, anxious.

Kurt eyes her strangely but keeps reading. _McKinley's Gay Love Triangle_ was the headline and seriously? Kurt checks the author. Jacob Ben Israel, go figure. Snorting indelicately, Kurt scanned the article, reading aloud. "'_Sources report that a Mr. Kurt Hummel was spotted in a secret rendezvous with none other than McKinley's resident blonde hottie Trouty-Mouth at the Motel 6. Hummel, famously attacked by a David Karofsky and dating the ever-present bad-ass Blaine Anderson, have been a controversial subject these last couple months, but is he really adding 'cheater' to the latest list of scandals? Has Kurt Hummel moved on to bigger and better abs? Stay tuned to find out!'" _Kurt's hands are shaking with rage by the end of the column. "What the _fuck_ is this pile of crap? People actually believe this?" This rag isn't good enough to wipe the bottom of his shoe. Kurt shoves it back at Rachel with a scathing look.

"Is-is it not true?" Rachel watches him with a gleam in her eye that was actually kind of terrifying. Kurt swallowed nervously.

"Well, _technically,_ but—"

"Hey, Kurt!" Blaine appears behind him, holding a bag from The Lima Bean and a cup of steaming mocha latte that Kurt practically grabs. "Woah, bad mood?"

"The worst," Kurt mutters darkly before draining half the cup in one gulp. "Walk me to class." Kurt grabs Blaine's arm and marches away from Rachel, though he shoots her a warning look behind Blaine's back. She rolls her eyes, but mercifully stays quiet.

"Why is everyone staring at us?" Blaine whispers to Kurt. "This is worse than when we dyed your hair."

Guilt stabs his stomach, but Kurt keeps his voice light. "They're just jealous. Don't pay attention to them." Blaine doesn't look entirely convinced, but he does glare at some unsuspecting freshmen and grins when the poor boy almost walks into a locker.

Kurt's mind flew. Seriously, what the _fuck_ was he going to do when Blaine sees the school's new papers? Blaine has issues with abandonment; thanks to his fucking _father_, how the hell would he take rumors of Kurt's "midnight tryst" with another boy at a skanky motel. He forces a smile when Blaine eyes him weirdly, clutching Blaine's arm a little tighter.

_Fuck_, this was not going to end well.

Hopefully Sam will talk to Blaine before he finds out about_ The Muckraker_.

* * *

><p><strong>I have a thing for Kurt Hummel with pink highlights. Don't judge me.<strong>

**I'm not completely satisfied with how this turned out, so yeah. Let me know.**

**I'm not even talking about last week's Glee. But Klaine will be fine. They have to be.**

**As always, thanks so much for all the reviews, favorites, and alerts, I appreciate all of them!**


	23. Chapter 23

**Warnings- pretty tame actually, talk of infidelity, launguage**

* * *

><p>"Tell him."<p>

Sam glances up at Kurt guiltily. He doesn't answer, and Kurt mentally calculates how dangerous it would be to actually sit next to Sam in their shared gym class. The other kids were already whispering behind their hands and glancing at them. He chooses to glare instead. Scarily.

Blaine always cowers at Kurt's truly furious faces. Sam isn't too different.

"I will, Kurt, I will; it's just…" Sam eyes the girl nearby and leans into Kurt slightly. "I need some time."

"Well while you're getting yourself some _time,_ Jacob is telling everyone about your gay love for me and how I'm a lying cheating skank, so _fix it." _Kurt hisses. Sam winces at Kurt's volume and Kurt tries not to growl aloud. But he does lower his voice. "I'm sorry. But Sam, trust me, people are going to be a lot nicer to you if they think you're poor than if they think you're gay."

Honestly, this whole situation would be almost comical if he could only talk to Blaine about it. He'd get a kick out of loudly propositioning Sam for a threesome or something.

Except Sam is still being a dumbass and Kurt now gets to mentally freak out about Blaine being in a different class and that stupid newspaper littering the hallways. It'll be a miracle if Blaine doesn't find out at this point.

"You're still getting shit for being gay?" Sam looks confused enough that Kurt barely resisted rolling his eyes.

"The only reason I'm not getting slushied five times a day is because Blaine would beat crap out of anyone who tried. And they all saw…K-Karofsky's face after…" Kurt unconsciously crosses his arms, holding them tight to his body. It's literally been like two months and he _still_ can't say his name without that cold dose of fear shooting down his spine.

Sam winces. "I didn't know. I'm sorry." He sighs and tugs on his hair with one hand. "I just need some time to get it straight in my head, you know?"

Kurt opens his mouth to tell Sam _exactly_ how much time he was going to get before he told Blaine himself, when Coach Beiste finally shows up and blows the whistle with a harsh _tweet!_ They're running laps today, so Kurt shoots a last look at Sam.

"You're telling him soon. I mean it, Sam." Kurt storms away.

He is _so_ not losing his boyfriend over this stupid charade.

* * *

><p>Kurt finally escapes the showers only a few minutes into study hall. He always waits until most of the boys are gone before he jumps in, and even then Kurt dares to stay only long enough to get the worst of the sweat smell off. Too many boys are freaked out about being checked out or something and Kurt does not need those looks. Not today.<p>

It also doesn't help that this locker room (_third row from the weight room doors, first bench)_ is where _it_ happened.

His hair is still damp when he turns down the hallway with his locker. Where Blaine is leaning against Kurt's locker with a deep frown.

_Shit. _

Kurt mentally freaks out but pulls himself together fairly quickly. It's only the two of them, so at least the showdown will be semi-private. Provided Jacob hasn't actually hidden video cameras in the hallways like the true scum of the earth he is. Kurt nervously walks towards Blaine, but keeps his head high. Maybe Blaine didn't actually know anything.

"Hey, sweetie," Kurt says with a grin, leaving a swift kiss on Blaine's cheek before turning to his locker. "You okay?"

Blaine barely reacts, though he does cross his arms and narrow his eyes at Kurt.

Well, might as well keep playing dumb. He gets his locker open, but Kurt pauses in the act of putting away his gym clothes. "Blaine?"

"I heard a weird rumor in Chem today." Blaine says conversationally, though his jaw line is too hard to really pull it off. "Any idea what is was?"

Kurt shuts his locker quietly, though he doesn't look at Blaine. Defending himself almost seems pointless. Blaine wouldn't believe him; he _couldn't_. No one ever does, after all. It just hurts that the tiny little flicker of hope deep inside Kurt's chest really believed Blaine would have faith in Kurt and _them_.

"They said you were at a creepy-ass motel last night. With _Sam_." Blaine continues.

Still silent, Kurt crosses his arms close to his body and glares at Blaine. Fuck him; he _should_ trust Kurt to not cheat. Like Blaine has any room to talk; honestly.

Kurt certainly hasn't forgotten about _Sebastian._

"_Then_, I get attacked by Jew-Fro walkin' here and he keeps asking me how I feel about you leaving me for a blonde surfer with a better body." Blaine spits out the last few words and if Kurt wasn't so pissed that Blaine is assuming the worst of him, he'd laugh at the insulted pout on Blaine's face.

"Did you punch him?" Kurt asks. He knows the answer.

Blaine smirks.

"Oh Christ," Kurt mutters and rubs his forehead. It's going to be a miracle if Blaine manages to not get thrown out this year. And Kurt _needs_ Blaine here; not in jail, not in juvie with _him_.

"He had it coming."

"That doesn't mean you can _punch _him, fuck!" Kurt shouts. "_Jesus_, Blaine!"

The boy just shrugs unapologetically, arms crossed defiantly. He meets Kurt's gaze evenly, though it softens when Kurt continues to seethe. "You told me you were with Sam, babysitting." Blaine suddenly says.

Kurt looks at him carefully. "Yeah."

"You don't like lying to me. You've only done it once." Blaine studies him, brow furrowed. "And I don't think you'd cheat on me. Not after Karofsky; and not after Scandals."

"I wouldn't," Kurt whispers, his mouth very dry. _Figure it out, Blaine, please; I don't want to break my promise to Sam._

Understanding flashes in Blaine's eyes. "That motel. That's where Sam lives now?" He sighs at Kurt's miserable nod. "Fuck. That just sucks." He falls back against the locker, closer to Kurt. One hand sneaks out and grabs Kurt's. "Why didn't you just tell me?" Blaine asks quietly, sounding a little hurt.

Kurt focuses on their intertwined fingers before squeezing slightly. "I made a promise," he says. "Sam was supposed to tell you about his situation this morning, and neither of us expected to be _followed_; this school is _batshit insane_, but…" Kurt trails off and smiles at Blaine. "Thank you for not freaking out and jumping to conclusions."

"Were you afraid I'd do that?"

Kurt shrugs guiltily at the sad tone in Blaine's voice.

"No, I get it; I don't have a very good track record with you," Blaine mutters and looks at the ground.

"Blaine…"

"Can I make Sam really uncomfortable with sex jokes for the rest of the day though?" Blaine wiggles his eyebrows ridiculously and Kurt snorts.

"Of course. The idiot deserves it; who would rather be gay than poor, _honestly_…" Kurt trails off when Blaine pulls him close, bringing his arms up to wrap around Blaine's leather-covered shoulders. Kurt breathes in _Blaine_ and hides his face in Blaine's neck. "I'm not a cheating whore, you know," Kurt says into Blaine's warm skin. Blaine squeezes tighter.

"I know."

"If we see Jacob, it's my turn to punch him."

"Wouldn't dream of stopping you." Kurt feels Blaine's chest rumble with suppressed laughter.

Kurt snickers too, and holds Blaine for an extra second. He'd usually feel self-conscious about being so needy, but he knows Blaine craves this touch too. He doesn't get it at home very often.

They bask in each other for a few minutes until—

"Wait, does Sam have better abs than me?"

"Oh my god; shut up Blaine!"

* * *

><p>By the time Glee rolls around, the rumor about Kurt and Sam has spread across the school and Kurt gets more than few confused looks when he slides into his usual seat next to Blaine. Rachel, in particular, glares at him.<p>

He's already been approached by an irate Mercedes, and Tina, _and_ Puck; none of whom actually seem to believe him when Kurt says _he's not cheating on Blaine_.

Does everyone really think that low of him?

That he'd hurt Blaine like that for a few seconds of pleasure?

_Like you can even get past first base,_ his mind sneers. _Blaine's the only one that would want you anyway, and that might not even last once he realizes he's got so many other options._

He tries not to think after that.

Kurt's pretty certain he's going to kill Sam if the blonde idiot doesn't fess up. Which he doesn't; sliding into a seat in the very back and ignoring the stares. He avoids Kurt's eyes, the jerk, though he does glance at Blaine.

_Yeah, he knows, now tell everyone else, _Kurt silently screams.

Surprisingly, Quinn sits behind them. Her expression stays aloof and disdainful as she slides her bag off her shoulder, but then she leans down. Too soft for the other to hear, Quinn whispers a few words.

"It's a good thing; what you did for Sam. He told me. Thank you," she says, and then straightens up like nothing happened.

Kurt catches Blaine's eyes, but the boy just shrugs and starts fingering Kurt's collar. Rachel narrows her eyes and opens her mouth, but Mr. Schue walks in and starts talking about Fleetwood Mac's _Rumours_ album and Kurt shoots her a look of _death_ to get her to back off.

At the end of rehearsal, Kurt books it out of there with Blaine in tow, though he doesn't miss the way Rachel corners Finn as they leave.

A sense of foreboding settles deep in Kurt's stomach and really hopes Sam knows what he's doing.

* * *

><p>The next day, McKinley erupts in a new scandal because apparently <em>Quinn<em> has been spotted at the motel with Sam, and Kurt just rolls his eyes at Tina's and Rachel's and Finn's increasingly bizarre theories as to why Sam is apparently bisexual and a cheating manwhore. Tina thinks Sam is a serial killer, apparently, and Blaine laughs so hard he snorts. And then Finn and Rachel are spied spying on Sam and Quinn together even though Finn and Quinn are supposedly dating again and Kurt just. Cant.

The week only gets worse, but Sam stays silent and as frustrated as Kurt is, he keeps his mouth shut along with Blaine's.

Secrets are familiar to Kurt, after all.

Kurt ignores Rachel's warning to stay away from Sam unless he wanted to lose Blaine and goes back to Sam's anyway. Sam gets a job delivering pizza and his parents are still trying to find work, so Kurt and Quinn hammer out a babysitting schedule for Stevie and Stacey between them. Talking to her is hard at first, but she apologizes before he says a word and then gets down to business.

He can appreciate that.

The first time Blaine comes with him to babysit, Stevie and Stacey are fascinated by Kurt's boyfriend. Stacey asks about a million questions ("Why do you have so many earrings?" "Do you have any tattoos?" "Can we dye my hair like Kurt's?" "No," Kurt says sternly to that last one and Blaine and Stacey both pout), and Blaine is patient and kind and _perfect_, the way he never is with anyone other than Kurt. Kurt watches them with a smile and feels normal for the first time in months; even though he's in a rustic motel with his poor friend's kid siblings and his boyfriend.

They decide to order food from some local chain restaurant with chicken fingers and fries and a whole cheesecake for dessert. Stevie and Stacey seem excited to have something that wasn't originally frozen or pizza, and really, Kurt can spare the money to put a smile on these kids' faces. Blaine volunteers to stay behind while Kurt goes to pick up the food.

Alone in the car in the barren parking lot as he waits for the restaurant to finish the order, Kurt sits. Thinks.

It's so easy with Blaine. With Sam's brother and sister. It feels normal and sane and safe but there's always that stupid little voice in the back of Kurt's head that whispers _it won't last, don't get comfortable, constant vigilance!_ and Kurt's so fucking tired of it all. School is getting more and more insane, though at least no one actually dares to touch Kurt now. Not after Karofsky and Azimio. But the whispers and fucking stupid rumors don't stop. Every class, every lunch, every five fucking minutes that Blaine's not there, they assault him.

_Whore._

_Bitch._

_Slut._

_Cheater._

_Fag._

They never stop.

A tap on the window shocks Kurt out of his musings and he quickly pays the bored teenager and collects the food with a tight smile. That's all he can do; smile and nod. _Keep calm and carry on_, Dr. Englund says. Kurt breathes in the smell of grease and fries and tries not to think about his fucked up life. He knows two kids that have it infinitely worse.

* * *

><p>"No! Kurt, stop! The floor's lava!"<p>

Kurt nearly drops the food at Stacey's shriek, but stops himself from walking into the tiny room. The scene before him is…well. Blaine's giving Stacey a piggyback ride while standing on one of the beds and Stevie has claimed the armchair as his territory. All of them have huge grins and the beds look like someone's been jumping on them, but they're so _happy_ that Kurt can't make himself yell.

He decides to play along.

"Lava? Oh no, what can I do? I have your food here and everything! You guys are going to starve!" Kurt says with a mock gasp. He catches Blaine's eye and winks.

Blaine smirks. "Well Stacey, what should we do? He's got food and we're all the way over here."

"He could throw it to us!" Stevie shouts, clumsily leaping from the chair to the other bed. He nearly falls off, but manages to stay upright.

"I am _not_ throwing you the food."

"Wait! I have an idea!" Stacey scrambles down from Blaine's back and grabs a few pillows. "He can walk on these! They're like, um, platforms that'll stay for ten seconds before the lava burns them up!" She's nearly bouncing up and down at her brilliance and Kurt laughs to himself as he struggles to kick off his boots. Walking all over someone's pillows is a bit rude, after all.

Blaine grabs a pillow too. "That's genius, Stacey! You ready, Kurt?"

"As always," Kurt says, holding up the food. "Come on, aren't you guys hungry?"

The first pillow nearly hits Kurt in the face, and he sends a glare at Blaine before delicately stepping on it. Stevie and Stacey count down loudly as Kurt steps on Blaine's thrown pillows, occasionally gasping when Kurt pretends to lose his balance. They pounce on Kurt when he finally sits on the bed, nearly tipping the food over.

"You made it, Kurty!" Stacey hugs him and then starts pawing at the containers. "Which one's mine? I'm hungry!"

"Me too!"

"Oh my God, calm down you little terrors," Kurt laughs fondly as he pushes them off and finds the right containers. He hands them to the kids with napkins and warnings to "keep the crumbs OFF the bed," but they mostly ignore him in favor of the fries. Kids.

Shaking his head, Kurt hands Blaine his bacon cheeseburger. Blaine sits next to him, almost pressed against his side, and kisses Kurt lightly on the cheek. "My hero," Blaine teases. "Braving all that lava for me and the two brats."

"Hey!" Stacey shouts. "We aren't brats!"

"Eat your food," Kurt scolds, taking a bite of his own grilled chicken sandwich. Blaine wrinkles his nose at the lame dinner and digs into his greasy burger, occasionally stealing Kurt's fries even though he has his own.

Apparently stolen food tastes better or something, but Kurt glares all the same.

And then Blaine kisses him.

It's a short peck, just lips and no tongue, but it's in _public_ and Kurt's torn between mortification and melting from happiness and oh God, the kids are staring. Kurt's cheeks grow hot and wow, what an interesting sandwich; it's just crafted so well.

"You guys're cute tog'er," Stacey mumbles through a mouthful of chicken fingers. Stevie nods.

"Swallow before speaking," Kurt says automatically, but smiles. God, he just wants to burst into _tears_, some people don't care that they're both boys; they just see _love_. It's so huge and fantastic and _awesome_.

Fuck, his meds are messing with him today; he's so fucking emotional. Kurt laughs and wipes at his eyes, catching Blaine's grinning face as well. Blaine wraps his arms around Kurt's waist and pulls him so they're chest to back.

"I guess I'll keep him then," Blaine snarks, wincing as Kurt smacks his arm.

"Hey! Don't make him mad, Blaine, he brought us dessert!" Stevie shouts.

"Dessert!" Stacey echoes.

"Yeah, I brought you nutjobs dessert," Kurt snickers, untangling himself from Blaine to grab the cheesecake. They don't have plates, so Kurt just puts the whole cake on the bed, gives the kids forks and tells them to dig in.

Which is how the Evans found their children later that night; stuffed with cheesecake and asleep on Kurt and Blaine before an old Disney movie on the flickering TV.

* * *

><p>"Where's Sam?" Finn asks during Glee. It's Thursday and Kurt is close to his breaking point after yet another week of cruel rumors, no sleep, and a new combination of anti-anxiety meds that make him numb and sick and <em>fuck<em>, Kurt just wants to go home and crawl in bed and ignore the world.

Except for Blaine. Blaine can come.

"Well, Kurt and Quinn are here, so we know they're not off doing the nasty," Artie says and Kurt drops his head and groans. Quinn scoffs, rolling her eyes.

"Shut the fuck up, Abrams!" Blaine snaps. Artie holds his hands up in surrender, looking apologetic. He mouths a _sorry _to Kurt when Blaine turns around.

"Like I've told all of you," Quinn drawls from the back, clearly bored and vaguely annoyed, "Sam isn't gay. You should ignore that stupid newspaper."

Rachel opens her mouth to comment, but then Santana bursts into the room and starts yelling at Brittany. Apparently something in the newspaper hinted that Santana was a lesbian.

He really should feel guiltier, but a mean part of Kurt kind of wants to interrupt the Latina's Spanish infused tirade and tell her that _everyone already knows_.

It's hard not to when she sits with Britt everyday and gives her those _looks._

The choir dissolves to yells and bickering again, with Mr. Schue talking to Brad and looking worried. Kurt just closes his eyes and leans against Blaine. God, why won't everyone just shut up?

Thankfully, Sam walks in at that point. Which makes Rachel round on him and start lecturing a confused Sam about motels and sleeping with two people at the same time. Even Puck gets in on the action, reminding Sam that Kurt and Quinn both have boyfriends and Kurt just wants to _crawl in a hole_, oh god. His face must be the color of a tomato by now. Blaine looks to be about one second from completely snapping, judging by the dark looks he keeps sending everyone, and Kurt just groans to himself.

He doesn't even care about the overwhelmed look on Sam's face; this shit has gone on long enough.

"GUYS!" Sam shouts, _finally_.

The Glee Club falls into shocked silence and Kurt's chest tightens because is he going to…? Blaine raises an eyebrow, but continues scowling at Sam with his arms crossed threateningly. Sam sighs, then lets it all out.

"The motel is where I'm living now," Sam says, Kurt can pretty much hear everyone's jaw drop. He breathes out, relieved.

"Did-did you get kicked out?" Rachel asks hesitantly, ever tactful.

Sam shoots her a _look_, but closes his eyes in resignation. "My dad lost his job a few months ago. We used all of our savings on the move, and when he couldn't find work, the bank foreclosed on the house and we…" He trailed off and shrugged helplessly. "I even had to sell my guitar," he adds softly, which Kurt hadn't known. He feels Blaine stiffen next to him; Blaine's guitar is one his most prized possessions and Kurt can't even think about what it would do to Blaine to have to give it up. It'd be like selling his arm.

"Dude, that sucks," Finn breathes, something like shame drifting over his face. "So Kurt and Quinn…"

Kurt was bringing me some clothes and he and Quinn helped babysit my brother and sister after I got a job delivering pizza." Sam finishes dully. Blushing and avoiding everyone's eyes, Sam shakes his head. "Blaine helped out some too. Anyway, no, Kurt and Quinn weren't cheating. And now you guys know." The glare comes out too tired to be really intimidating, and Kurt sees how it only makes everyone feel guilty than anything. They kind of look at each other and then at Kurt and Quinn and Blaine until Sam snorts and sits next to Blaine's chair in the front.

Then Mr. Schue finally remembers that yeah, he's a teacher, and they discuss ways to help Sam and his family out until Sam tells them all to drop it. Kurt knows the feeling; knows how pity is almost worse than the suffering. Either way, the practice breaks up pretty soon after.

Kurt doesn't miss Sam's shiny eyes or choked breathing as he rushes out of the room.

Mercedes and Tina don't look at him as they run out, though Mike and Puck mutter apologies to Kurt about believing rumors over their friend. They glance at Blaine to, but clearly decide to let it go. Kurt doesn't really care at this point; he just needs to be home and away from this _mess_.

It's all just…too much.

"You okay?" Blaine asks, low and worried. He tugs on Kurt's sleeve, like that will bring Kurt back to him. Kurt forces on a smile. It doesn't work very well.

"Yeah."

Silence.

"I will be," Kurt amends. "Take me home?"

Blaine gives him a hard look, but takes the keys out of Kurt's hands and walks for the parking lot. Kurt watches Blaine, then sighs and rubs his eyes. He's just so fucking _tired._

_At least things should settle down now_, he thinks.

* * *

><p><strong>AN -**

**I'm so sorry about how late this is. College has been rough this past couple of weeks and Glee certainly hasn't helped.**

**Thank you to everyone for sticking with me and for all the reviews/favs/alerts! It means so much to me that you guys care! I'll start working on the next chapter soon. Thanks again!**


	24. Chapter 24

**Warnings: Talk of rape, past non-con, language**

* * *

><p>They're at Blaine's house for once when Kurt brings it up.<p>

"You can stay here tonight."

Blaine sits up instantly and stares at Kurt; he can feel those burning eyes; who is lying next to him on the bed. The music keeps playing softly; some Iron and Wine song Kurt's had stuck in his head all day. Kurt keeps his eyes closed and his face carefully blank.

"What?"

The iPod switches to Coldplay. Kurt takes a deep breath.

"You can sleep here. You don't have to come back with me." Kurt says, relieved when his voice doesn't shake. His breath is slightly uneven, but maybe Blaine won't notice. He opens his eyes to Blaine's glare and sighs internally.

"You wanna explain yourself?" Blaine doesn't let up his glare. His voice is tight, angry and hurt, but this is for him. "_Kurt."_

Kurt sits up too, instinctively drawing his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around his legs, making himself as small as possible. Always as small and unimportant as possible. He shrugs. "You sleep at my house—" _in my bed _"—all the time; you have to miss yours." Kurt whispers. _Miss your own bed; a full night of sleep without your psycho boyfriend waking you up every night screaming; your mom; who you haven't seen in days._ He shakes his head. This is for Blaine, no matter how scared Kurt is.

"Kurt, don't be a fucking idiot, I don't _care_, I _don't—_" Blaine keeps babbling, but Kurt ignores it.

"No." Kurt says with firmness he didn't know he was capable of; everything's suddenly clear. It's not _just _about Blaine. "I want to do this." Blaine falls silent but watches Kurt carefully, letting Kurt work it through in his head.

The music moves on to Brand New.

Without really thinking, Kurt lets his hand stretch out on the bed and Blaine's clasps it in a second. He rubs the knuckles with his thumb, feeling Blaine's calloused fingers do the same. It's grounding. Kurt lets go of a breath he didn't know he was holding.

"I want to get better," Kurt whispers, staring at their entwined hands. One tanned, one pale, and yet they seem so _perfect_ together, so _right_. He squeezes; Blaine squeezes back. "I want to get _better_. I can do this. I can sleep one night alone."

Because every night he doesn't; every night he curled up against Blaine not out of love but out of fear, _he _wins. And Kurt can't let him. Not anymore.

"I want to have courage." The short sentence is almost too quiet, but Blaine hears. He always does.

"You're doing it for you, right?" Blaine chooses to say. He knuckles are white and Kurt's fingers start to tingle, but Blaine doesn't let go. "Not for some stupid martyr complex, but for _you_, yeah?"

There's a flare of anger from the thought that Blaine doesn't trust him, but Kurt ignores it. "I want to be brave enough to sleep alone," Kurt says harshly, even though it's not Blaine he's mad at, not really. "He didn't take this from me. I'm not a fucking coward." He's almost snarling, dropping Blaine's hand and twisting the comforter in his fingers instead. It's so fucking _unfair_, he can't even sleep in his own bed with screaming and hiding in Blaine's chest, but not anymore, no, not anymore.

Hands gently pry his fingers from the blanket and Kurt exhales shakily, calming slowly. He glances up hesitantly, but Blaine's face is a weird mix of pride, hurt and anger.

And love; always love.

"It's not because I don't need you anymore; you know that?" Kurt suddenly understands Blaine's expressions. When Blaine's cheeks flush, Kurt knows he's on the right track.

_Idiot_. But fondly.

Not answering, Blaine just shrugs, trying for nonchalance and failing miserably. A smile works its way on Kurt's face because his boyfriend is _adorable_. "Blaine. I'm always going to need you. You complete me. _My missing puzzle piece_," he sings, repressing a giggle at the lyrics. He'd teased Blaine _mercilessly _when he found the Katy Perry CD among Third Eye Blind and Say Anything. Blaine snorts, but his mouth twitches. "I want to be brave enough to deserve you," Kurt says, a truer confession than he'd intended.

"You've got that backwards." Blaine mutters and Kurt rolls his eyes, pulling Blaine in for a quick kiss and grinning when Blaine follows his lips as Kurt pulls back.

"No I don't."

He just grins when Blaine eyes him again. Blaine lets out a sigh/groan mix that should be intimidating but sounds more like a grumpy puppy. "I'm gonna miss you. What about me? I don't wanna sleep alone." He pouts, but Kurt has long since built up immunity (he had to; those eyes are _dangerous_) and ignores it in favor of pushing Blaine back down to the bed and settling against his chest. Blaine automatically lets his arms fall and start tracing patterns on Kurt's skin.

"Thank you," Kurt says, feeling a flood of warmth from the small "I'm proud of you," that falls from Blaine's lips.

* * *

><p>The first night is hard.<p>

So is the second.

And the third.

And every time he wakes up practically eating his pillow in an effort to stay silent, still convinced _he's _there, in the dark and just waiting, it's hell to not call Blaine. He doesn't sleep well and starts going through cover-up again, like before.

But Kurt grits his teeth at school and bears it, smiling through Blaine's almost wondering recounting of his night with his mom.

There was one night; weeks ago right after _it _happened, when Blaine came back way too fast after leaving for the night. His eyes had been red and his cheeks blotchy, but Kurt couldn't stop crying long enough to ask and by morning he'd forgotten. Kurt wonders.

"She started working longer hours and I just stayed with you…"

"I'm sorry," Kurt says softly, feeling a stab of guilt as he shuts his locker. There's about five minutes until homeroom, but Blaine starts to walk with him and shooting looks at anyone that so much as glances at Kurt. One girl frowns right back but smiles when she catches Kurt's eye. They had been partners in French last year and she is one of the few that would help Kurt pick up his books if a jock knocks them out of his hands in front of her. Kurt smiles back faintly.

A fist punches his shoulder gently. "Told you to knock it off," Blaine glares. "I wanted to be there and I didn't have a reason to go home. I _like _sleeping with you."

_But not _sleeping_, never that, not yet, not ever._

Kurt pushes his thoughts back. "I'm glad you guys are making up," he says instead, suppressing a yawn. Blaine nods and narrows his eyes.

"You're really ok?" He asks suspiciously and Kurt swallows hard and tries not to look like a deer in the headlights.

"Yeah, of course."

Blaine looks doubtful. "I just mean you went from y'know, nightmares every night to nothing in like, a day, and you haven't even called me," he rambles, face falling slightly. "You can call me you know, right? I have my phone under my pillow; I'll hear you."

If it were a perfect world, Kurt would kiss him right there in front of his whole class, but this is Homophobictown, Ohio and Kurt settles for squeezing his hand instead. "I know," Kurt smiles. "I've been ok, but I will call. If I. Need to. Thank you." _I can't call you; it's not fair to you, but thank you._

Blaine's frown deepens, but then the bell rings and he curses—his homeroom is across the school. "We're talking later, ok?"

"Yeah, go, Blaine, don't get another detention."

"Fuck her. Crazy old bat. Love you, see you next period."

"Love you too."

* * *

><p>It doesn't get better.<p>

Kurt goes through the day feeling drained and exhausted, barely even snapping at Rachel during Glee and even Stevie and Stacey notice. Stacey uses Kurt's lethargy to test out her new "doctor kit" and spends the whole afternoon listening to his chest with a stethoscope and slapping Hello Kitty band-aids all over his face. He takes a picture of the two of them to send to Blaine and Stacey makes him set it as his phone's lock screen. Stevie plays with Kurt's old Gameboy, lost in the realm of Pokémon.

They're a breath of fresh air, and as Kurt leaves, he texts Blaine that he's going to sleep early. Blaine replies with a quick 'o_k'_ and '_good night angel'_ and Kurt really wants to call him. So badly.

But it's almost midnight and Blaine keeps telling Kurt how proud he is that Kurt's learning to walk on his own and Kurt just can't ask for help. He can't.

He's never pretended pride isn't one of his sins.

He misses Blaine. They didn't see each other after school; Blaine said he had to work on a project and hang out with his mom, and Kurt babysat. They haven't hung out a lot at all this week, actually. Both busy with other things.

Kurt tries really hard not to worry about what that means.

He's texting Blaine and trying to finish an English essay on _The Catcher In The Rye_ when Finn comes into his room that night with a glass of hot milk and actually remembering to knock for once. Wordlessly, Kurt gestures for Finn to sit down on the edge of the bed while silently freaking out.

Finn and him…they never really meshed. They're more like two people that just happened to live together rather than brothers, even after his dad married Finn's mom. They're so different and Finn's still getting over Kurt being gay; and the _incident_ the year before left pretty deep scars. Kurt loves Finn, he does, but he doesn't trust him.

"Hey, dude," Finn smiles lopsidedly and sit awkwardly. "I always kinda secretly liked this when you made some for me y'know?"

Kurt nods and glances at the steaming mug. He's really not thirsty. "Thanks," Kurt says, though.

There's a weird silence and Kurt just starts wondering what's the nicest way to say "_why the fuck are you in my room" _when Finn blurts it out.

"You're not ok, are you?"

Kurt stares at him. "I'm fine."

But Finn shakes his head. "No, man, I heard you last night." His face goes pale. "You didn't sound good."

_Last night I dreamed Karofsky found me and raped me in front of Blaine and then killed him, how the hell do you think I felt?!_

"I'm fine," Kurt repeats. He turns back to his book. Why is Finn even in here, it's not like he cares.

"It's just—ugh!" Finn groans suddenly and Kurt looks up to see an angry expression. "It's not fair!"

"What?"

"You! It's not—not—" Finn drops his head into his hands. Kurt's alarmed to see Finn's shoulders start to shake, and puts a hand out.

"Finn, what's wrong?" Kurt's not even sure how it's gone for Finn trying to comfort him to Kurt calming Finn down. It's so confusing.

Finn sniffs wetly and rubs at his face before turning his red-rimmed eyes on Kurt. "It's not fair that this happened to you." Finn says stubbornly. "It shouldn't've happened. You didn't—don't deserve it and I fucked up so bad."

Oh _shit_. "Finn, it's not your fault, don't be stupid—"

"Yeah it is!" Finn practically yells before Kurt shushes him, glancing at the door sheepishly. "Sorry. I just mean. I'm your brother y'know? And I didn't protect you from him. Or anyone. I should've." Kurt stays silent because yeah, Finn should have helped him. But then Finn keeps going. "That first night you were in the hospital? Burt yelled at me. He told me how disappointed he was and how could I let you suffer and stuff like that and all I could think was how right he was."

"I don't blame you," Kurt whispers. Tentatively, he pats Finn's shoulders, half-expecting the boy to pull away. But Finn leans in to the touch. "I don't, it wasn't your fault."

"I hate that you're still, like, dealing with it. It hasn't gone away yet." Finn sounds almost angry.

"It's not that easy. I'm dealing." Kurt takes a deep breath. "That's why Blaine isn't here. I'm just…dealing. Trying to get better." Finn frowns at him. "I know you don't like Blaine, but he's good for me. He is."

"He made you cry."

"A lot of people make me cry. Like those girls that think leggings and Crocs are a good combo."

Finn laughs at that.

"I'm gonna be okay, Finn."

Finn smirks. "Never doubted that, brother." He dodges Kurt's half-hearted swipe. "Look, but seriously," Finn catches Kurt's eyes. "You can come talk to me, okay? I may not be the smartest person ever, but I'll listen." His expression turns pleading and Kurt sighs, but nods.

"Okay."

"Good." Finn says with relief. They sit in silence for a little longer before Finn blushes.

"I'm gonna go do..stuff, okay?"

"Yep." Kurt says too quickly, watching Finn leave and flopping back on the bed to text Blaine.

_To : Blaine  
>My family is so weird.<em>

_From: Blaine  
>?<em>

* * *

><p>"Why are we getting coffee at five p.m. on a Friday?" Kurt asks as Blaine pulls into the Lima Bean's parking lot. He's not entirely sure why he's even agreed on this as he was planning to spend the night curled up next to Blaine and watching sappy rom-coms until Blaine could force Kurt to watch a thriller. It was those damn puppy eyes, of course.<p>

Blaine just grins at him. "Go inside and get us something. I'll be right there." Blaine pushes at Kurt's shoulders when Kurt just stares, confused. "Go, Kurt, I'm right behind you!"

Huffing, Kurt raises an eyebrow at his boyfriend as he gets out of the car. "You're certifiable, you know that?"

"I'm not the one with pink in their hair," Blaine laughs, and Kurt snorts as he walks into the shop. He has no idea what Blaine's doing, but he's got a nagging feeling that it's going to be a surprise.

Kurt _hates _surprises.

But he gets their drinks (_grande non-fat mocha and a medium drip and why is she winking at me like that?)_ and finds a table near one of the windows while he waits. The coffee shop is cute—all wood and cozy, couples and friends mixed. A few students from the community college with their laptops and huge textbooks, a group of private school boys in blue blazers, and old couple huddled over their coffee and looking as in love as ever.

He wants that with Blaine.

Kurt shakes his head. Blaine's taking forever, where is he? And then his boyfriend walks in and waves at the barista and he's carrying a _guitar case_ and heading over to a cleared space Kurt didn't notice before and setting the case down. Then microphones and amps appear from a storage space behind the counter and Blaine's interacting too friendly with the staff for this to be anything _but_ planned, and then Blaine sits on a stool with a microphone in front of him and a guitar is his lap.

Kurt's heart leaps into his throat.

It's an almost comical site, Blaine in his ripped skinny jeans and leather jacket among a small mix of hipsters, schoolboys, and grandparents. But then Blaine catches his eyes and his face lights up and Kurt forgets why he's scared.

"Hello-hi!" Kurt jumps a little at Blaine's amplified voice, and most of the crowd's attention falls on his boyfriend, conversation dying away. "Great, this thing actually works! Thanks Becca!" Blaine flashes a thumbs up to the barista and she hold up a cup and bows. Blaine turns his attention back to the audience. "Anyway, hi, I'm Blaine Anderson, and I will be your entertainment for next forty-five minutes."

There's a quiet gasp from one of the tables, but Kurt ignores it, focusing on Blaine. Blaine talks about how the Lima Bean is trying out live music, so Blaine will be every Friday from five to six pm, and pretty please tip because he wants to go to college and he's not getting paid for this? The crowd laughs good-naturedly, and Kurt is always shocked at how easily Blaine can charm the pants off of anyone even though he dresses like a greaser from the 50s.

"Anyway," Blaine continues, "This first song is dedicated to the most important person in my life—" his eyes flick to Kurt and Kurt can feel his cheeks heating, "—who's going through a really tough time right now. I just want to remind him that asking for help is okay and I really hope he listens." Kurt can tell some of crowd notices his pronoun use and quite a few girls groan and glare at Kurt, who preens a little. Just a little, though.

Blaine strums the guitar before falling into a melody. It's familiar, almost; Kurt knows he heard it before but it sounds different.

"_A turning tide…"_

Blaine's voice is lower than Tom Chaplin's, but it's beautiful. It must have taken him a while, rearranging the song for a single guitar and changing the pitch to suit an acoustic performance. Kurt sits, transfixed like the rest of the crowd, as Blaine slips into the chorus. His heart lodges somewhere in his throat.

"_And why'd you say it's just another day, nothing in my way, I don't wanna go, I don't wanna stay, so there's nothing left to say?" _Blaine glances up and locks eyes with Kurt, though he doesn't miss a note. "_And why'd you lie? When you wanna die, when you hurt inside? Don't know what you lie for anyway, now there's nothing left to say."_

Kurt tries to keep his face neutral. To not give in, not break down in front of all these people because how can Blaine _know_? Those stupid hazel eyes always _see_ him and Kurt really just wants to get up and fling himself in Blaine's arm's but no, not yet. This is Blaine's moment. So he lets a shaky smile out and claps loudly with the rest of the audience when Blaine finishes. Tries to tell Blaine with his eyes "_I love you so much"_ and "_I'm so proud of you" _but mostly _"thank you_."

He thinks Blaine probably gets it.

The rest of Blaine's set goes well; he looks a little angrier than he should have during "Perfect" but he was probably imagining his dad the while time. Kurt can forgive that. Then Blaine sang Death Cab's "I Will Follow You Into The Dark" and spent the entire song shooting cheeky glances at Kurt as Kurt fought an amused smile from appearing. Blaine _knew_ Kurt thought that song was overly sappy and cheesy; he'd been there for Kurt's rant about it before they'd gotten together. But there was something about being serenaded in public (although not everyone knew Blaine was singing to _him_) that made Kurt want to melt in a puddle along with every other female in the vicinity. Blaine looks entirely too proud of himself after that and ends with "Here Comes The Sun," and then another reminder to tip if they liked him and YouTube videos are always welcome. Kurt gets another medium drip for him before walking up to Blaine as he's taking the guitar off and letting down a group of middle-school girls gently. They groan when they see Kurt and one mutters "figures he'd be gay" under her breath, which Blaine apparently finds hilarious. But Kurt's there and Blaine grins, grabbing the coffee before looking at Kurt.

"Was that okay?" He asks hesitantly and Kurt tries really hard not to swoon. He really doesn't deserve Blaine. "What did you think? Was it stupid?" He winces.

"I think," Kurt purses his lips but can hold back a smile. "I think that was probably the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. Thank you."

"Oh good," Blaine says, relieved. "I wasn't sure if you'd be mad at me for ditching you all week. Figuring out how to make Keane into a guitar-only song was kind of a bitch, and we're definitely talking later tonight, because don't think I didn't notice your cover-up—"

"Blaine?" A voice interrupts and Kurt and Blaine both look up to see three of the prep school boys. Their jackets are dark blue with a red crest on the left side, and it looks familiar. Like, really familiar.

But Blaine's staring at them with a shocked expression; he recognizes them. Kurt looks again. One's a dark-skinned African American, one Asian, and the last—

_ Oh fuck._

"Hey there, killer!"

Kurt's stomach drops about fifteen feet when he realizes who's standing in front of them.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck._

* * *

><p><strong>AN -**_  
><em>

**Songs used - "Nothing In My Way" by Keane, "Perfect" by Simple Plan (not P!nk, whose song is "Fucking Perfect" and I don't care what Glee says)**

**Thanks for reading and reviewing! It means a lot to me that people are enjoying this and I appreciate you all dealing with my sporadic updates. I'm almost done finals and I hope to write a little more over winter break. **

**I was thinking about putting up Blaine's playlist on my tumblr (center-of-the-storm) but I don't know yet. Thanks for reading!**


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N - I'm going to start winding this down soon, but thanks for reading!**

**Warnings - language**

* * *

><p>Kurt is fairly certain he's in Hell.<p>

There is no other word to describe it.

Standing next to Blaine while the skanky Sebastian eyefucks the hell out of his boyfriend, Kurt really _really _just wants to disappear. Forever, preferably.

Blaine shoots Sebastian a confused look but turns his attention on the other two boys. "Wes and David?" He says, shock lacing his words. A smile slowly spreads over his face. "Fuck, I haven't seen you guys in like, forever!"

The Asian boy lets out a relieved laugh and pulls Blaine into a tight hug. "A year, Blaine! What happened to you, man? Dalton misses you," he says, still in disbelief.

"Shut up, Wes," Blaine punches his shoulder before wrapping the other—David, Kurt guesses—in a hug as well. Kurt steps out of the way, but Blaine barely glances at him as he starts talking to the private school boys excitedly.

They must be friends. Old friends, from Dalton? He remembers the pictures in Blaine's room and Kurt knows of the school. He'd looked into going over the summer, but the tuition was too steep for his dad. The anti-bullying policy wasn't worth that much. He wraps his arms around his stomach and tries not to be jealous.

He just really doesn't get why Blaine would give that up. If Kurt had been there instead of McKinley, he could have been…

"And this—" Kurt jerks to attention when Blaine suddenly grabs his arm and pulls him flush against his body. Two of the three boys grin at him like crazy, though Sebastian eyes him with contempt, but Blaine practically bounces next to him. "This is my boyfriend, Kurt! Kurt, this is Wes and David. We used to go to school together, like, awhile ago."

"Hi," Kurt smiles, unable to resist the bubble of happiness rising through his chest. Blaine _wants _him; _wants_ others to know. Like these boys. "It's nice to meet you guys, you clearly mean a lot to Blaine."

"We were best friends at Dalton before he ditched us." David put in, mock-glaring at Blaine. Kurt feels his hand tighten on his waist and knows there's a story about why he left.

A smirk flashes across Sebastian's face. "Yeah, can't imagine the dean enjoyed walking in on you fucking another guy in his office, huh?"

Silence falls after that sentence and Kurt's ears burn. He knows Blaine had a lot of sexual partners before him, but he doesn't exactly want to hear all about them. Doubly so after Karofsky. Wes and David give Sebastian disgusted looks.

"And who the fuck are you?" Blaine says rudely. His hand is tight and possessive around Kurt's waist. Kurt tries not to snort as Sebastian's smirk falters.

"Sebastian Smythe," he says. "Remember?"

Blaine screws up his face. "No?"

Next to him, David catches Kurt's eyes and snickers.

Now annoyed, Sebastian crosses his arms. "From Scandals," he grits out.

Blaine stares at him for a few seconds then glances at Kurt. "Wait, that night I got shit-faced? You're the dick that doesn't know the word 'no,' aren't you?"

Sebastian's face flushes even darker and Kurt sighs. This is his life.

"Okay, how about we all just sit down? We can get more coffee or something and just…get to know each other," Kurt finally says into the tense silence. These—well, two of them—are Blaine's friends and he deserves a chance to meet them again. Kurt can handle a douchebag. He can.

After all, he has Blaine behind him.

The boys look at him with various uneasy expressions, but Blaine snorts and pushes his way through them and stalks off to a table in the back. Wes quickly follows, David behind him, but not before David gives Sebastian a hard punch to the shoulder.

"Don't fuck this up, Seb." David growls with a glare as he walks off. "We lost him once, it's _not _happening again." Sebastian mutters something but Kurt ignores it in favor of joining his boyfriend. With the awful boy behind him, Kurt sighs internally. He'll need so much patience for this.

How did this day go from being perfect to such a train wreck?

* * *

><p>It is as awkward as Kurt expected and then some.<p>

No one has spoken more than a few halting sentences complimenting Blaine's voice and Kurt busies himself with sipping his second mocha of the day purely so he doesn't have to talk. Blaine's arm is still tight around his waist and he won't stop _glaring_ at Sebastian, who seems to be getting more and more annoyed at Kurt for some stupid reason. Wes and David look like they want to disappear and Kurt's not too far behind them.

"So, Blaine," Wes says almost desperately, "What've you been doing the last year and a half?"

"Clearly not the twink here," Sebastian mutters and Kurt fights to keep his serene smile in place and to not let his hands claw that dickwad's face off his skull.

He does enjoy the brief flash of pain Sebastian forgets to mask when David kicks him under the table. Sue him.

Blaine sighs. "You mean where'd I go after Dalton?" he asks, resigned. Kurt tries not to seem too interested in Blaine's answer. He's never asked about Blaine's history; figuring that it was Blaine's business and he'd tell Kurt when he wanted Kurt to know.

He's always been curious, though, especially with the rumors.

"Dad shipped me off to some military school," Blaine shrugged. "Out by Columbus I think? The uniforms were even worse than Dalton's."

David snickers. "Oh man, that Catholic one? _You _had to go to a Catholic school?"

At Blaine's self-satisfied smirk, Kurt had to bite back a laugh. That could not have lasted long. Blaine and strict rules really don't mix well. He sips his coffee to mask a grin.

"How'd you get kicked out of that one?" Sebastian drawls with a knowing sneer. He raised his eyebrows at Blaine's glare.

Surprisingly, Blaine shifts guiltily in his seat and doesn't look at Kurt. "Kind of the same way," he mumbles. "Only this time my roommate blamed his pot on me too."

"_You fucked a boy at a Catholic boarding school?!"_ Wes hisses, scandalized.

"Look, he was hot, I was horny, neither of us wanted to be there, and it was a way to say 'fuck you' to the batshit-insane nuns there while having fun. It's not a big deal, okay?" Blaine snaps defensively. He takes his arm off of Kurt and crosses them over his chest, sinking moodily into the seat. "It didn't mean anything," he sulks.

Kurt puts an arm out and touches Blaine's shoulder. He doesn't shake it off, but doesn't look at Kurt either. God, it's like babysitting a _child_ sometimes. "Blaine. It's fine. I get it." Kurt says quietly. At Blaine's disbelieving glare, Kurt smiles a little even though it feels like someone is stabbing his heart.

A loud snort interrupts them and Blaine glares across the table again. "Something to say, Sebastian?" Wes asks dryly.

The boy scoffs again and waves at Kurt."Just don't see how the Blaine I've heard about would ever settle down. Let alone with _that."_

Kurt raises his eyebrows incredulously while Blaine actually growls at his side. "Excuse me?" Kurt sputters.

"You scream 'terrified virgin' and Blaine's been kicked out of school for not being able to keep it in his pants. Do you have any idea what kinds of stories they tell about him at Dalton? And Scandals?"

"No," Kurt says, face red. He doesn't want to hear this, he really doesn't. His breaths come in short bursts. Blaine's face goes white.

"Shut up, Seb, don't—"

"He likes sex. He likes it _a lot_, and there's no good reason why he'd give it up for _you_." Again, the sneer. Kurt considers punching him. Blaine taught him well, after all. But he settles for a death stare. "I don't get why he'd pick _you_ when he can have me. All sex, no feelings, plus I don't look like a twelve year old girl in drag pretending to be all grown up with trashy clothes and fake hair dye."

Kurt bristles, ready to say something because he's wearing _McQueen, _the uncultured _swine_, when Blaine slams a fist on the table, nearly knocking over the coffee cups. Wes and David exchange glances, but don't interfere. "I'm with him because I love him." Blaine states, voice hard. His hand shakes slightly where it rests on the table. "And because I'm lucky enough that he loves me back." Sebastian looks like he's at a loss for words, but Kurt only has eyes for Blaine.

He's never seen Blaine like this: a mix of fury, disgust, and revulsion. Blaine's hand finds its way to Kurt's shoulder and squeezes. Unconsciously, Kurt relaxes under the touch.

"Kurt makes me better," Blaine continues. "He makes me _better_ and fuck everyone else, he's worth it. You're not." Blaine tugs on Kurt's shoulder until he stands up. "Leave us alone and lose my number," he says, pushing Kurt towards the door. "I'll find you guys on Facebook," he mutters to Wes and David as he and Kurt leave. They're a few feet away from the table when Sebastian finds his voice.

"Let me know when you give up this stupid pretense, slut!" Sebastian taunts. "Scandals misses your wet mouth and tight ass!"

Blaine freezes and Kurt grabs him. "Do _not_ even think about it," Kurt hisses, even as he considers putting Sebastian in his place. Preferably with his fists. "_Don't _do it. I need you. Here." Blaine glares and Kurt can vaguely hear Wes telling Sebastian off.

"That's all you're good for, you know," Sebastian keeps going, ignoring Wes's admonitions. "A quick fuck-and-run. That's what they all say, anyway!"

Blaine starts shaking in Kurt's grip, eyes dark. "It's not true, it's _not_; don't believe him for a fucking second!" Kurt whispers desperately. Sebastian is going to die in this store if Kurt can't get Blaine to leave. "Blaine come on, let's go."

"From one rich brat to another, that's all anyone wants from us," Sebastian shakes Wes and David off and gets right up in Blaine's face. The height difference is almost comical, but Kurt's heart is jammed in his throat because this can go wrong in so many ways. Sebastian leans in close. "A pretty face, a credit card, and a willing dick; that's all we are; and you should embrace it, sugar. Don't waste yourself on the Ice Queenie."

The café is quiet and everyone's staring and Kurt can see how Blaine's hands are clenched in white fists and a brawl in the middle of the Lima Bean would just be the icing on the cake to Blaine getting tossed in prison.

"He respects himself!" Blaine snaps, stepping closer. Somehow, even though he has to tilt his head back to look Sebastian in the eye, he's intimidating. Kurt doesn't get it.

"You mean he's too much of a fucking pansy after the bear cub tried to kiss him, right?"

Kurt's heart just _stops_ because _how did he know_ and more importantly, _if he doesn't even have other gay kids on his side in this, what's the fucking point_. He presses a hand across his mouth to hold in _something_ when Blaine's face goes red.

"That 'bear cub' has two hundred pounds on him and tried to _rape _him; what the _fuck_ is wrong with you?!" Blaine yells and the whole café goes dead silent. All those eyes turn to them and Kurt just wants to disappear or die, he's really not picky, and he's not certain if he's more furious at Sebastian for being a dick or Blaine for parading out his dirty laundry for half of Lima. It's a close call.

A dark skinned hand rubs his shoulder comfortingly as Wes explodes, ripping into Sebastian with harsh words and promises of demerits or expulsions or something. Kurt's not really listening; everything's just a dull roar.

"Kurt, I think you should go," David whispers in his ear. "I'll get Blaine, just go wait outside, ok?" Kurt nods numbly, but his feet refuse to move. His body is frozen as he watches a tiny Blaine scream at an indifferent Sebastian. David motions to Wes to get Blaine before Blaine decides to actually kill Sebastian.

When Blaine tries to rush forward, Wes grabs him and holds him back, but only barely. Sebastian keeps that fucking smirk on and inspects his nails as Blaine keeps yelling.

"The only reason I'm not kicking your ass is 'cause I can't get sent to juvie right now!" Blaine shouts while Wes struggles to pin his arms to his sides. "But you come near me or Kurt again? You're dead!"

Sebastian scoffs again but Blaine shakes Wes off and turns on his heels and grabs Kurt up in a fierce hug. David lets Kurt go after exchanging a look with Blaine, motioning a phone. Blaine nods and marches himself and Kurt away, ignoring Sebastian's muffled "slut."

But because it's Blaine, he stops before they reach the door and turns around with a glint in his eyes. Kurt's chest freezes in apprehension. Blaine doesn't disappoint.

"Also, you're a shitty kisser, you fucking whore!" Blaine yells across the café. "And Kurt's dick is bigger than yours!" The barista stares at him in shock and the customers are a mix of horrified and amused. One girl Kurt thinks is in his history class actually claps though her friend shuts her up quickly. Sebastian's faces goes redder and looks ready to retaliate, but Kurt yanks Blaine outside before this day gets any worse.

Fuck, it's the lunchroom all over again.

When is the _shame _ever going to fade?

The parking lot is still chilly and Kurt doesn't speak to Blaine as they walk to the car. Unlike last time, Blaine follows silently, letting Kurt sort out his rage and embarrassment in peace. He slides into the passenger seat without a word.

Kurt sits behind the wheel and struggles to get his breathing under control. He's about to drive when he remembers.

"Your guitar."

"Becca will hold it for me," Blaine says, subdued. They're quiet. "Kurt, listen, I—"

"Not now." Kurt interrupts. "Please, just…not now." He's pleading and it sucks, but Blaine nods and looks out the window at the gray sky.

Kurt shifts the car in drive and pulls out.

Why is everything so complicated?

* * *

><p>"So, how long before you think I'm allowed back in the Lima Bean?" Blaine asks as he flops back on Kurt's bed.<p>

Kurt shrugs.

"Kurt…"

Sliding off his coat, Kurt turns away and hangs it in his closet. He waits inside for a few extra seconds, taking the time to just _breathe_ and forget the world. Something hits the door with a loud _thunk. _Kurt pokes his head out with a glare.

"Seriously, Blaine?"

Blaine pouts and Kurt sees one of his feet is now shoeless. "You were ignoring me," he says unhappily.

"I was putting away my coat."

"And ignoring me." Blaine scoots back on the bed and pats the space next to him. "I know that look; get your ass over here so we can talk. Like we _promised_, remember? No more hiding." He runs his hands over the duvet, fingers trailing the patterns.

His parents are out. Date night. And Finn's at Puck's for video games or something. The whole house is empty and it's perfect for a teenage boy to take advantage of with his boyfriend. They could do…things.

_You're just asking for it, you slut!_ Karofsky screams in his mind.

Kurt folds his arms to hide his pounding heart.

"You just got like, really pale, Kurt. C'mere." Blaine looks at him with worry. "Seriously at least sit down. I wanna talk about Sebastian and all them. _And_ the fact that you haven't slept in like a week."

He always knows. Kurt snorts weakly but sits on the edge of his bed, arms wrapped around himself protectively. Shaking his head, Kurt sighs. _Jesus, _where can he even begin?

"I really did like the song," Kurt finally admits, smiling at Blaine's huge grin. "It was…I really like hearing you sing. It's been awhile."

"That's 'cause Berry hogs the mike in Glee," Blaine says, rolling his eyes. He looks at the giant space between them and Kurt can see his hands itching to reach out and touch, but he doesn't. At least he respects Kurt enough for that. To give him space. Blaine hesitates before speaking again. "I made…I made a lot of mistakes before I met you," he confesses. "Like, a lot."

Kurt inhales sharply. "I know. I'm not judging you for that; it's your life and all." Still, the image of Blaine and some faceless boy is not…pleasant.

Groaning, Blaine starts tugging at his earrings. "I don't know how to convince you that Sebastian's full of shit and you _mean_ something to me!" Blaine looks at Kurt pleadingly. "Like, I know you're scared of sex and all and I don't blame you 'cause anyone would be, but you're scared of _me. _How am I supposed to fight that?"

It's like being punched in the stomach. Kurt sucks in a breath and holds it, staring at Blaine's pain-filled eyes until he can't stand it and drops his gaze. His eyes start to burn with unshed tears. How does he always _know_?

"Or do I have it backwards?" Blaine asks, making Kurt look up in confusion.

"What?"

Blaine shrugs and this time he's the one that breaks eye contact. His fingers play with his earrings even faster. "All this time I thought you were running away from me 'cause I thought you thought _you_ weren't good enough, which is fucking stupid, but is it me?" Blaine's voice gets small and fragile and Kurt just listens in shock because _what?_ "Sebastian might be right about that at least." Blaine smiles bitterly. "I am kind of useless at everything but fucking."

Kurt can't listen to this. "Blaine—"

"I always fuck up; why'd I ever think this would be any different?" His expression, all sad and resigned and defeated; makes Kurt feel sick to his stomach. Blaine's been let down by so many people, even his own father, and Kurt knows his self-esteem is kind of shot to hell. He should have done something in the Lima Bean. He should have said something to Sebastian when he saw how the fight was affecting Blaine, but Kurt's too much of a coward. They don't speak, too caught up in their own thoughts and all of Kurt's words get stuck in his throat and Blaine just shakes his head. "I can leave," he whispers and stands up, ready to walk out and Kurt has a feeling this time might be for good which _can't _happen, it _can't_; he'd _die_, so Kurt does what he does best.

Bursts into tears.

He hates it, he really does, he feels so _weak_ like this but Blaine's by his side and wraps him up in strong arms and leather and whispered words of comfort and Kurt's fucking missed him. So he buries his face in Blaine's neck and just lets the tension of the past week out.

"I keep having nightmares," Kurt admits into Blaine's skin after the sobs quiet down. Blaine keeps stroking over his hair and clutches Kurt closer. "About Karofsky. It's so stupid, he can't hurt me and he didn't even really _do _anything to me anyway, I'm being such a bitch about everything—"

With a growl, Blaine Shoves Kurt off so he can glare at his face. "Don't be stupid; he fucking terrified you. That's all that matters. Just because he didn't _succeed _at, y'know, everything, doesn't mean he didn't try and that's just as scary. Don't ever say that what he did and how you're feeling is stupid."

"Then don't think you're a fuck-up either," Kurt says with a small smile. "You're so good for me, you make me _happy_. You're so much better than Sebastian. Just like I'm better than Karofsky." He waits for Blaine's furrowed brows to clear.

"Did you just—"

"I totally Yoda-ed you," Kurt grins broadly, proud of himself for the reference even if there was a hint of truth in his words before. Blaine loves Star Wars. He's not disappointed when Blaine ducks his head sheepishly. Lacing their fingers together, Kurt nudges Blaine with a shoulder. "It was very hot, the way you stood up for me in there," Kurt says, hiding a smile.

Blaine fails at his. "Yeah?"

"Mmmhmm." Kurt leans over, resting his head on Blaine's shoulder and sighing happily. "I missed this."

"Your fault, Hummel. What do you want to do about the dreams? We could talk to Englund."

Kurt groans and hides his face in Blaine's shoulder. "Think I'm gonna have to," he grumbles. It is what his dad pays her for, anyway.

"Hey." Blaine shrugs until Kurt sits up, ignoring the disgruntled glare Kurt gives him. "You notice how I didn't leave in an angry huff and you didn't scream at me too much?" Kurt stares at him.

"Um. Yes?"

Blaine grins cheekily. "Think it's a sign, Kurt. We're getting better at this 'talking' thing!"

"Oh my god, you're such a _dork_," Kurt laughs, shoving at Blaine before tugging him into a brief kiss.

Everything's going to be alright, after all.

* * *

><p><strong>AN -<strong>

**Sorry this was kind of a lame chapter. Definitely not one of my favorites. Thanks again for all the reviews/favorites/alerts! Really appreciate it guys!**


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N - Thanks for reading! Here's the next chapter!**

**Warnings - language, fluff, angst, bad medical knowledge**

* * *

><p>"I don't want more pills."<p>

Dr. Englund looks at him, but Kurt just crosses his arms and glares. He's more than aware that he's being petulant and childish and yet Kurt really doesn't give a shit. It's been the only response for weeks, after every problem.

Panic attacks, anti-anxiety pills.

Pain, more pills.

Depression, pills.

He won't take more for sleep. No.

"Kurt, you need to learn how to sleep. Without relying on Blaine, you know that," Dr. Englund says gently. The pity in her eyes makes Kurt sick and he slumps back into the couch to glare at the wall. His leg shakes up and down. "We've tried several methods, but nothing is helping you. And quite frankly, you look like shit."

"I'm pretty sure that's not how therapists are supposed to talk to their patients," Kurt snaps.

The observation is accurate though, and he knows it. Without Blaine, Kurt invariably has nightmares and wakes up screaming. Or crying. Or, on one memorable occasion, hiding under his bed trapped in a flashback. He doesn't know what he said during that particular episode, but he's never seen his dad so white when he came back. It was horrible.

Dr. Englund raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Why don't you want pills?" she asks, changing tactics. It's one of the reasons why Kurt has stuck with her over the weeks, actually. She doesn't put up with his bullshit, which is a relief after spending every day being treated with kid gloves. Unlike certain people, she trusts him to make his own decisions and have his own opinions, and asks for them. But he's still not taking the damn sleeping pills.

"I don't want to be helpless." Kurt says harshly, feeling his heart start to speed up at the memories. "I can't—_won't_—do that. I-I don't want to not be able to wake up." Fuck him, he's _crying_ again and he can't fucking _breathe; _why the hell is he so scared? Karofsky's gone, he's not here; not even in Lima anymore and he still has this hold over him and Kurt _hates _it. Kurt wipes at his tearing eyes, cheeks burning with shame. He sucks in a deep breath and looks at his therapist. "I can't be trapped in those dreams with _him_ and not wake up. I can't."

"Kurt—"

"I stopped taking the other pills." Kurt interrupts. He hugs himself and looks away to the window. It's a nice day outside, the kind he'd want to drag Blaine out to the park or something stupidly romantic like that. Blaine would complain, but he'd like it. He always does when someone shows him kindness.

The room is silent for a few minutes until Dr. Englund nods to herself. "I had a feeling you might," she says, like she knows anything about him. Kurt scoffs.

"They make me feel weird," he mutters. "Just—not myself. Numb. Fuzzy. I don't want them. I don't—I don't want fucking _pills_ to make me normal, I just want to be _me_." Kurt rubs at his forehead as a headache starts to build. Blaine would understand. He'd get it; he'd get that Kurt can't keep giving up control of himself. Not like this. "I just…I'm tired of not being me anymore," Kurt whispers.

There's another sigh, like Dr. Englund is upset, and then she puts her clipboard off to the side. "Oh, Kurt," she says sadly and Kurt refuses to look at her, refuses to accept her pity. "I know."

He doesn't answer.

* * *

><p>Near the end of March, Kurt walks into his bedroom after school and stops.<p>

"Blaine, why is there a dog in my room?" Kurt deadpans. He's far too used to the shit Blaine pulls by now, especially after that one afternoon he came into his house to see Blaine trying to convince Burt that tattoos "are really super manly, Burt, it'll make Carole totally swoon!" Really, finding a dog sitting next to his bed is pretty tame. The large brown and black dog wags its tail and pants happily under Blaine's hands, but it watches Kurt with more awareness than he expects.

"This is Xena!" Blaine says, stroking behind the dog's ears. "She's a three-year-old German Shepherd and I picked her up from the SPCA yesterday after school. Some asshole decided they didn't want her, so we rescued her. I already asked your dad," Blaine adds hurriedly at Kurt's eyebrow rise. "He met her already and he said it'd be ok."

Suddenly his dad's knowing smirk downstairs made a lot more sense. It's hard to stay angry at Blaine, though, so Kurt relents and walks closer to the dog. When he puts out a tentative hand, she sniffs it and starts licking his fingers. Kurt smiles when she nudges his hand until he starts petting her. Her tail wags again.

"What would be ok?" Kurt asks, sitting down next to Blaine warily. Xena plops her head in Kurt's lap and Kurt scratches her ears absently. It's comforting, actually. He may not be an animal person, but there's something about the simpleness of a dog's loyalty that melts his heart. She doesn't judge him like Lima and Sebastian. She doesn't care that he's gay. She doesn't know about Karofsky. She just likes _him_.

Blaine hands a leash to Kurt and grins. "She's yours," he says, looking pleased. "I talked to Dr. Englund and she said some survivors get dogs. It helps them cope or something."

"'Survivors'?" Kurt repeats. Xena whines when he stops petting her and Kurt glances down at the dog. She shuffles closer under his gaze and licks at his hand again, looking completely adorable. It's the same look Blaine gets when Kurt stops kissing him and shit. He's attached already and it's barely been five minutes.

"Better than 'victims' at least," Blaine shrugs, rubbing Xena's sides and patting her. "But seriously, Xena'll be good for you. You're still having trouble sleeping and maybe having a big guard dog will help you feel safe, y'know?" His face falls when Kurt doesn't say anything. "You don't like her."

Kurt groans in exasperation. "Shit, Blaine, this is kind of a big commitment to just spring on me, alright? Give me a second to process," he says. Xena takes that moment to roll over on her back and whine again, looking at Kurt mournfully. Seriously, how is a full-grown dog so damn _cute_? "She's not very threatening." Kurt grumbles before kneeling and rubbing her belly. Xena pants blissfully and paws at Blaine's legs.

"Just wait, I promise, Finn's gonna scare the shit out of her when he gets back from football and hears we have a dog," Blaine says confidently.

Raising an eyebrow and trying not to visibly melt from happiness, Kurt looks back at Blaine, who's now reclining on the bed. "I should be worried about how comfortable you are in _my_ house," Kurt says dryly, but Blaine just grins. "Also, _we_ have a dog?" Kurt asks hesitantly. It's not often he gets Blaine to really talk about the future or commitments or anything beyond jokes so getting a _dog_ is more than a little unexpected.

Blaine colors at that and it's adorable. "W-well I mean—I just thought, um." He looks at Kurt helplessly.

"Guess we'll need to look for apartments that allow animals in New York," Kurt says neutrally, but he can't stop smiling. Blaine slides off the bed to sit next to Kurt, instantly getting a lapful of dog and Kurt can see them in a few years—Blaine playing with Xena in front of a large window overlooking the city while Kurt makes dinner or something. It's so real and perfect and Kurt wants it _so badly_ and he leans in and cuddles up next to Blaine to stop his mind from freaking out.

Xena calms down when they start watching some movie, curling up next to Kurt. She may have come home with Blaine, but she's certainly decided that she's Kurt's dog and Blaine doesn't seem to mind too much. There is a slight mishap when, as Blaine predicted, Finn runs into the room too fast, yelling about a new dog. It makes Kurt scream (just a little) and Xena interprets it as _Protect Kurt!_ and nearly attacks Finn, but Blaine holds her back. It's not until Kurt touches Finn and leads Xena over to the teen giant and Finn bribes her with treats that she stops growling. She does cuddle more possessively with Kurt after and Kurt would be lying if he didn't admit that the whole display made him feel safer with a guard dog ready to protect him. Even if said guard dog acts like a puppy when presented with toys.

"There's another reason I got her for you," Blaine confesses when the credits start rolling. Kurt feels his stomach clench up, fear trickling down his spine. "Um," Blaine shifts guiltily. "I dunno if I ever told you what happened to my parents and their divorce thing?"

A memory of an overheard conversation flashes before Kurt's eyes and he blushes. "Um, no," he says, praying that Blaine's lie detector is faulty. He gets a weird look though, so apparently Kurt's not as subtle as he'd like.

"Right," Blaine draws out the word, still eying Kurt suspiciously. "Anyway, one of the terms of the divorce was that they'd split custody of me on holidays."

"I still think it's weird your dad even _got_ custody after beating you," Kurt mutters under his breath, scratching Xena's ears a little harder. Mr. Anderson just pisses him off, Kurt can't explain it.

Blaine makes a face. "Yeah, well, you and me both," he says bitterly. "Anyway, Easter's coming up." He doesn't elaborate.

Kurt glances over at his boyfriend. "So…you have to spend Easter with your dad?" he guesses.

"In California," Blaine says. "With his new girlfriend." Blaine wrinkles his nose.

_Oh_. Kurt whistles lowly. "He moves kind of fast, doesn't he?" He aims for some levity, but judging by Blaine's sour expression, fails.

"She's twenty-seven," Blaine spits out, wrapping his arms around himself. "She's a fucking _surgeon_ at some fucking hospital who just finished med school. She's young enough to be my _sister_," Blaine scowls at the TV. He leans into Kurt when Kurt pulls him into a one-armed hug. "He told my mom a week ago and I keep walking in on her crying," Blaine says quietly, dropping his head on Kurt's shoulder.

There's nothing Kurt can say to make it better, so he just holds his boyfriend. And plots various ways to torture Mr. Anderson for putting these good people through hell over and over. Something occurs to him, though.

"Is this why Xena's here?" Kurt asks Blaine's curls. "Because you're going to be in California for a couple of days?"

He feels Blaine shrug against him. "I just thought she could help you feel safe when I'm not here," Blaine mumbles, sounding nervous. "So you can get some sleep since you won't take any more pills."

How no one has ever noticed Blaine before him Kurt has _no _idea because Blaine is _perfect_. Tears sting at his eyes but Kurt laughs a little anyway. "Thank you, Blaine," Kurt gets out in a choked whisper. "Thanks for just…understanding."

"Are you doing okay? Like, really okay?" Blaine eyes him nervously. "You've been off your anti-depressants for like a week, but I'm just…" he trails off, paling slightly and looking towards Kurt's nightstand and Kurt knows what he's thinking about.

He grabs Blaine's hand and strokes it gently with his thumb. "I won't do that," Kurt says firmly. "Not again. I won't." Whether he's trying to convince himself or Blaine is a little blurry, though. kurt swallows hard. "I won't do _that_," he repeats, trying for firm and missing slightly.

"Just call me, ok? I don't care what time; just call me if I'm not there." Blaine's eyes are panicked and Kurt drops his gaze for Xena, who currently is sprawled across his legs and snoring gently. "Kurt. I mean it."

"I'm not going to kill myself Blaine!" Kurt shouts; startling the dog awake and making Blaine jump. "I'm not so fucking codependent that a few days without _you_ is going to send me over the edge!" he practically hisses scathingly, because how _dare_ Blaine think that about him. He's not a fucking coward; he's not weak; he doesn't need fucking pills to stay alive. He doesn't. Kurt feels his cheeks burning and he's not sure if it's from anger or shame, but the difference doesn't really matter anyway. He tugs Xena closer and strokes her fur, not even flinching when she timidly licks at his nose.

The room is quiet for a long moment.

"I'm sorry," Kurt finally whispers. Shit, he's _not _crying again; he's not. He roughly swipes at his traitorous eyes. "I shouldn't've yelled at you like that. You had good reasons for being nervous." God, will the shame ever go away?

Blaine pulls Kurt into a hug and Kurt just melts. Blaine smells so _good _and _safe_. "It's going to get better, you know that, right?" Blaine tries. "It's ok that you're scared and shit, but it's gonna be okay."

"I'm going to miss you so much," Kurt almost sobs into Blaine's shoulder. "I just—feel so weird and stressed and _thin_ and I can't explain it, I can't, I don't know how, I just—"

Blaine cuts off his rambling with a kiss, soft and chaste but warm and calming and Kurt grabs at him tighter and ignores Xena's questioning whine. "Kurt, it's okay. You're body's still adjusting, you'll feel off for a little bit."

Kurt pulls back to look at him questioningly.

"I might have called your therapist after I found out you threw out all your pills." Blaine shifted under Kurt's gaze. "I just wanted to know what would happen to you and shit. It's not a big deal."

Hiding a grin Kurt lays on the bed and yanks Blaine down next to him. He goes easily, wrapping an arm around Kurt's waist and rest his head on Kurt's shoulder. Xena whines pitifully at the base of the bed until Kurt hold out a hand and she curls up to his other side and gets dog hair all over his jeans.

"It's like I have two dogs," Kurt mutters.

"You love us," Blaine says confidently. Kurt smiles at his bright eyes. Then they fade into worry. "I leave in two weeks," Blaine confesses, like it's some secret. "I'm scared. It's the first time I'll have seen him since the police station in January, and I don't want him to ruin me. Us."

Unconciously, Kurt begins threading his fingers through Blaine's thick curls. "He won't. You're strong, Blaine. And you can always call me. Phone goes both ways, you know?" Kurt misses cheekiness for sadness and he shakes his head. "Just promise you won't run off with some blond pothead surfer boy and we'll be good." He says it as a joke, but his heart still jumps in his throat. Hopefully Blaine doesn't notices.

Blaine huffs a laugh at that. "I got you; all I want. No California surfer can beat that. Plus we have a _child _now; you can't dump me anymore Hummel," Blaine waves an arm at Xena, currently snoring next to Kurt. "It could be fun though; I figure I can be a real proper 'badboy' to Dad and the bitch and get sent home early," Blaine adds smugly and Kurt laughs aloud at that one. Mr. Anderson is in for a week from hell.

Weirdly enough, Xena does help. That first night, Blaine still sleeps over, but he leads her up on the bed when Kurt starts whimpering in his sleep. He wakes up to soft licks to his face and quiet whines as Xena nuzzle in close. It makes him cry harder, but Kurt buries his face in her furry neck and Blaine _had_ to have bathed her because she smells _good _and _clean_ and between her and Blaine wrapped around his back, it's the best night of sleep Kurt's had since the attack.

He resolutely does not think about the amount of dog hair that's going to be on his bed in the morning.

* * *

><p>The first night Blaine is in California, Kurt doesn't sleep.<p>

Not right away, at least.

He sits on the living room floor braced against the couch instead, half-heartedly rolling a bright orange ball away from him for Xena to bring back. It's where his dad finds him.

"Hey, buddy," Burt says, slightly groggy. Kurt looks up and forces a smile as Burt walks in and sits in his favorite chair. He tosses the ball again and Xena bounds after it, nearly running into the coffee table. "It's almost 11. You plannin' on sleepin' at some point?" Burt asks.

Kurt shrugs. Xena pads her way back to him and drops the ball in his lap, but Kurt reaches up to pet her instead. "Blaine hasn't texted me today. Just waiting," Kurt says quietly. He doesn't mention how worried he is. Blaine's terrible at remembering his phone, but he promised Kurt. He _promised_.

Burt leans back in his chair and sighs deeply. When Xena walks over, he scratches her neck absently. "She helpin' you any? Haven't heard you the last few nights." Burt smiles at the content whining from Xena. "She's certainly a sweetheart, geez."

"Yeah, she is," Kurt nods. "It's not…perfect. But she helps. I just need Blaine to call or text or something." He wraps his arms around himself and closes his eyes. God, he's so tired. "I'm just worried about him being with that man."

Grunting angrily, Burt shakes his head. "It's a disgrace that they let that bastard anywhere near his son," Burt says with a snarl. It's strange. Kurt's only ever heard his father speak like that about him, but he has a feeling Burt's already accepted Blaine as another son. Sap. When Blaine gets back, Kurt's going to tell him that. It'll make Blaine happy, especially since his own father is such a fuck-up.

Kurt watches his dad bond with the dog, resting his arms on his bent knees. Next to him, his cell phone remains dark. It's only around 8 for Blaine, but still. His stomach twists up in fear.

It's stupid; Mr. Anderson could hardly start hitting Blaine again in front of his new girlfriend and after the previous charges. But Kurt knows better than anyone that words can do just as much damage as fists and Blaine's still on edge about what Sebastian screamed at him in the coffee house. Going back to the man that was the source of all of his anger and low self-esteem was hardly healthy or safe and Kurt hates that he's stuck in Ohio while his boyfriend has face all of that alone. It wasn't right.

He doesn't say anything for a long time; just takes in the quiet of a house mostly asleep and the soft thumping from Xena's tail against the carpet.

"Your doctor said you'd stopped your pills," Burt suddenly breaks the silence. Kurt tenses, but nods anyway. No point in lying.

"It's been a few weeks."

"I know, she mentioned. And your prescriptions ran out a couple days ago," Burt sighs again. Xena breaks away to curl up at Kurt's side and Kurt focuses on petting her. "You wanna tell me why?"

And share his crazy with his father? "Not really," Kurt whispers. His fingers run over Xena's thick fur in steady, even strokes.

"Kurt—"

"Dad, _please_," Kurt begs. "Please, just—for once, just _trust_ me. I'm okay." He looks at his father pleadingly. "I'm going to be okay, Dad."

Burt looks at his son for a long moment and the hurt in his eyes _kills_ Kurt, but then Burt lets out a frustrated groan and rubs his temple helplessly. "Shit, Kurt," He mutters. Kurt shifts guiltily. Burt smiles weakly. "You're so much like your mom, you know."

Kurt _freezes_. They never talk about her. Never. Losing Elizabeth killed his father. Kurt had almost given up on seeing his dad happy again until Carole, but she still didn't compare to his mom. It's been almost nine years and it still feels like a gaping hole in his chest when he thinks about her. He still hurts.

"So independent and stubborn," Burt continues. Kurt remembers; remembers how hard she fought the cancer until she couldn't. She didn't give up until the very end. "I wish she was here." Burt admits brokenly and _fuck_, Kurt's going to cry again. Even without the damn meds he's emotional and he just wants it all to stop. Kurt hugs his knees to his chest and ignores Xena's questioning whine when he pulls away from her. "She'd be able to help you. She'd be better at all this than me," Burt's voice is so quiet and lonely and Kurt can't stand it so he stumbles to his feet and practically falls in his dad's lap. He might be almost seventeen, but _fuck it_; Kurt just really wants his dad now.

"You're doing a really good job," Kurt chokes out into his dad's shoulder. He sniffs. "I mean it, you're perfect, okay? Mom's proud of you."

Burt clutches his son tighter and Kurt can feel the larger man shaking under him. He wonders how long Burt's tried to hold it together for him. It must have been for a while.

A sharp buzzing interrupts them and Kurt twists to see his phone on the floor and lighting up with a text. It buzzes again. Burt nudges him gently until Kurt slides off. "Go answer your boyfriend," Burt grunts, trying to salvage some manliness. "And then go to bed. I mean it, kiddo." Burt tries to give him a stern look but his lips twitch too much. Kurt smiles at him.

"Okay."

"Night, Kurt."

"Good night, Dad."

He waits a few minutes until Burt's up the stairs before grabbing his phone and unlocking it. Four texts await him.

_From: Blaine  
>I hate him so much. Took my phone soon as I landed sorry I haven't texted you<em>

_From: Blaine  
>Bitch gave it back. Don't get her at all. She's being nice. I don't trust her.<em>

_From: Blaine  
>I miss you.<em>

_From: Blaine  
>Call me if you aren't asleep?<em>

Kurt opens the phone app as Xena nuzzles his head and tries to lick his ear. "Down, girl," Kurt gently forces her to lie down next to him. He thumbs to Blaine's name and calls. It only rings twice.

"_Hey, babe."_

Grinning at Blaine's voice, even if it sound exhausted, Kurt leans against the couch.

"Hey, Blaine."

* * *

><p><strong>AN-**

**Thanks for your responses after the last chapter, I really appreciated the support! I was just worried this story is too much talking and not enough action (and this chapter isn't much better, I'm sorry). Anyway, thanks as usual for all of the support and alerts and favorites and reviews! Over 200 reviews, I can't believe it. Thank you all so much!**


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N**

**Unedited, but the next couple weeks are going to be hell so here you go.**

**Warnings - angst, descriptions of violence (sexual and non), blood, language, depression**

* * *

><p>"It's fucking weird as hell," Blaine complains over Skype the second night. It was Blaine's idea, actually. So they could see each other before going to sleep.<p>

The phone call the night before almost worked, along with Xena sleeping at the foot of Kurt's bed. Until Kurt woke in hysterics at 4 am convinced that Karofsky was trying to kill him, of course. Luckily, he'd managed to keep his sob muffled in Xena's fur and his dad hadn't woken up. It'd almost worked.

Kurt keeps petting Xena as he listens to Blaine rant about his father's strange behavior. "It's only weird because he's not trying to kill you every other day," Kurt mutters.

"True." Blaine grins. "How's the dog?"

"A nightmare." Kurt mock glares at Xena and she licks his nose. Fleabag. Kurt scratches her ear fondly. She eyes the laptop screen and Blaine waves like the dork he secretly is. Before she decides to try to lick the screen, Kurt hugs her closer. "I miss you," Kurt admits.

"Miss you, too," Blaine smiles softly.

"So how did you terrorize your dad's girlfriend today?" Kurt raises an eyebrow expectantly. At Blaine's self-satisfied smirk, Kurt rolls his eyes. "She cannot be that bad; she gave you your phone and the internet password. So you can talk to my needy ass."

Snorting, Blaine glances off-screen. "Don't be a moron; I wanted to talk to you too." Blaine slumps back in his seat. "She's dating my dad. Clearly she has issues," he sulks.

"Maybe you should give her a chance?" Kurt tries. Xena's ears suddenly perk up and she bolts out of the room, barking happily. "Dad's back from the store," Kurt says at Blaine's confusion. "Late night run. She's discovered that Dad likes to give her treats when he comes back. Traitor."

"Xena or your dad?" Blaine asks, amused.

"Both!" Kurt smiles when Blaine starts laughing. "Seriously, Blaine. I think you should at least talk to the woman. If nothing else, she's the reason why your dad is being civil towards you."

Blaine opens his mouth to argue, but there's a knocking sound and he glances over his shoulder. Groaning, Blaine gets up and walks off-screen. It's a little awkward to sit and stare at Blaine's empty bed, but Kurt manages. He flips open another window and starts reading some article on _vogue_, trying not to listen to the angry muffled voices.

A few minutes later, Blaine comes back into view, scowling. "Dad wants me to come down for fucking dinner," he says angrily. "And _apparently_ he doesn't appreciate my fucking foul mouth. What a _bitch_, right, asshole?!" He shouts the last part and Kurt has a feeling Mr. Anderson is still there.

"Get your ass downstairs in five minutes," a hard voice snaps. "And lose the attitude if you know what's good for you."

"Why, you gonna hit me in front of your new whore?!" Blaine's expression turns dark and Kurt feels so _helpless_, trapped hundreds of miles away on the other end of a computer screen.

"Blaine." he whispers, but it goes unheard.

"Gonna beat the sass out of me? Or maybe the gay, right?" Blaine continues and Kurt can just _see_ how it's calculated to piss off Mr. Anderson as much as possible. He drops his head in his heads and tries not to listen, willing Blaine to shut up. Blaine has other ideas. "It worked so great the last few times, you know? I figure couple more punches and I'll be eating pussy like it's my job!"

"BLAINE!" Kurt shouts. Shit, he really doesn't want to have to watch his boyfriend get the crap kicked out of him, not when he can't do anything to protect him. He watches nervously as Blaine finally looks at him, a light blush tingeing his cheeks.

A door slams and Blaine jerks around, but sighs. "He's gone," he mutters. Guiltily, he drags his eyes to the screen. "Kurt…"

"Don't give him a reason to hurt you. Please." Kurt keeps his voice just shy of begging. "Just…get through it. It's only a week and then you'll be back here and you won't have to see him for months."

"Thanksgiving," Blaine says darkly, but he rubs his face tiredly. "I'm sorry."

"Just be careful. And go; don't piss him off even more."

Blaine fiddles with his earrings instead. "D'you think I should tell Erica?" he asks hesitantly.

"Who?" Kurt is so confused; Blaine's mood swings are exhausting to keep up with.

"His girlfriend. Her name's Erica." Blaine shakes his head. "Like, I hate her, yeah, but I'm scared Dad's gonna start whaling on her now that he doesn't have me or Mom. Like he always starts off charming and shit but then he loses his temper once and promises it'll never happen again, but it does. This weird 'good father' act he's been doing the last two days…I don't like it. And then there're little things, like he's constantly criticizing her, but nicely, and telling her how she can be better and she just smiles and _does_ it."

Once, Kurt stumbled on a documentary about domestic abuse. It focused on why women stayed with violent husbands and boyfriends and Kurt never understood _why_ they'd put themselves through that until recently.

It's really hard to leave someone when they spend all their time telling you what a useless, undesirable slut you are and how no one else would love you, after all.

_'We accept the love we think we deserve.'_

The cliché quote pops into his head. It's from some book Blaine made him read, and to be honest, Kurt identified really well with it. And Charlie.

He's silent of another few seconds, trying to figure out how to word himself for Blaine. "I think you should talk to her," Kurt repeats. "No deserves what you and your mom went through."

Blaine nods unhappily and groans. "I gotta go. Text me."

"Okay."

"Tell Xena I love her, got it?"

"Yeah," Kurt snorts. "Anything else?"

Blaine chews on his lip for a second. "I'm really proud of you," he says, and a flood of warmth and happiness erupts in Kurt's stomach. "You're amazing. Love you."

"Love you too," Kurt whispers, and then the screen goes black before switching to his contacts list. Blaine's icon turns gray and Kurt lets out a slow breath.

Now he has _two_ people to worry about.

* * *

><p>Without Blaine around and the fact that it is spring break, Kurt suddenly finds himself with an over abundance of free time and nothing to do.<p>

He plays with Xena and does some of the assigned homework, but for the first time in a long time, Kurt is completely, undeniably, _bored_. He's never fully realized exactly how much of his time gets taken up by his angstiness and crazy badass boyfriend until he's off his medication and Blaine's on the other side of the country.

Before Blaine, Kurt wouldn't have minded being alone for a few days. It used to be so familiar, so normal to just check out for hours at a time and get lost in music or sketching or trashy reality shows until he doesn't feel anymore. But now, the idea of sitting by himself in his room with no company but his own thoughts and insecurities...

Well. Maybe that's why the third day Blaine's gone he winds up outside of Finn's door and knocking hesitantly. As soon as he does it he regrets it, but then the shooting noises from the video games Finn always plays pauses and there's heavy footsteps and then the door opens and Kurt is faced with his giant stepbrother and no clue about what he had been thinking when he decided to walk up the stairs and leave Xena with his dad.

Finn stares at him with a confused look and leans on the door frame awkwardly. "Hey, dude," he says wonderingly. "Um, what's up?"

This part Kurt definitely hasn't thought through. He freezes with wide eyes and his voice gets caught in his throat. Blushing hard, Kurt mumbles something he's not even sure is an actual sentence and turns to leave. Possibly to die of embarrassment as well.

"Wait!" Finn calls and Kurt turns slightly. He's halfway down the hallway to his room and Kurt briefly considers just making a break for it, but something in Finn's expression stops him.

"Do you, like," Finn gives him a careful smile, like he can see Kurt thinking about bolting, "D'you wanna play Halo with me? The guys're all online but it'll be fun, we can teach you and stuff."

He and Finn still don't really talk, not even after that awkward night where Finn ended up crying on Kurt's bed. And Finn certainly never invites Kurt to play the Xbox with him and the rest of the glee club boys. Blaine sometimes gets invited over to Artie's or Mike's or Sam's, before, but never Kurt. And he wants to. So bad. He just wants to be included for once because he's still a _guy_, he's just _gay_. But...

"I'm not going to be very good," Kurt whispers, and he kind of hates himself for trying to run away again but then Finn gets this lopsided grin and Kurt convinces his legs to stay.

"Dude, me either, but you're kinda bored without Blaine right?" He nods at Kurt's light flush. "Plus, you're like, a guy."

Kurt raises an eyebrow. "I'm very aware of that," he says dryly, wondering if maybe he should just go back to his room and call Mercedes. He's not sure he's up for the kind of patience hanging out with Finn requires.

"Not what I meant, man," Finn says with a wounded expression. "I just meant this is what guys do when they're upset or bored or whatever."

Kurt scrunches his face up in confusion. "Kill virtual aliens?" He deadpans.

"Hell yeah!" Finn grins. "Come on, it'll be fun!"

For some reason, Kurt feels his own face twitch into a smile in return and he walks back to Finn's room with a light feeling in his stomach. It takes him a second to realize that the feeling is happiness.

Once Kurt figures out how to aim and run at the same time (it's a fucking stupid control scheme; he has no idea what the game designers were thinking), he actually turns out to be pretty good. They play some online game with Puck and Artie and beat the other team quickly thanks to Kurt's sniping skills, and he and Finn trade off turns.

Two hours go by faster than Kurt realizes. He thinks he hears his dad walking in the hallway, but Finn's under attack and Kurt's too busy yelling at him to _look up you idiot, you're going to get ambushed!_ The footsteps fade away and Kurt forgets about them when it his turn.

"Dude," Puck says over the microphone after a particularly exhilarating mission. "I don't think I've ever heard you laugh so much."

Kurt flushes hard and hands the controller back to Finn. "Sorry," he mutters, but Puck backtracks and starts stammering before Kurt edges over into full-blown panic.

"No, no, Porcelain, I just meant—it's like—"

"It's nice, yo," Artie puts in. His voice is scratchy from static, but Kurt can still hear the white rapper accent Artie works so hard on coming through. "You're a lot funner to hang out with than we thought and we're glad we can make you happy. Maybe not like Blaine, but happy, y'know?"

"I don't have a lot of reasons to smile at school," Kurt whispers. He can _feel_ his voice starting to tremble and this is so not the moment to get emotional but Kurt kind of sort of thinks he might have actual _guy friends_ now and fuck, it feels really awesome to be accepted. Knowing Finn's still there and watching him, Kurt tries not to smile or cry, but Finn looks so pleased with himself that Kurt can't hold back a small laugh. To cover, he excuses himself and goes downstairs to grab them some sodas and chips and doesn't even think about how many empty calories he's about to consume.

He runs into his dad about to take Xena out for a walk and feels guilty, but Burt snorts and says he needs the exercise anyway. Kurt doesn't let himself think about how happy his dad looks at the sight of Kurt about to go up the stairs with an armful of junk food.

"Have fun, kiddo," Burt says with a wink, and disappears out into the spring. Kurt sighs and goes back upstairs, rolling his eyes when Finn nearly cries with joy at the sight of food.

Later, Finn starts him on some RPG and lets Kurt play awhile. When Kurt asks if Finn wants to play, Finn just smiles. "It's kinda fun to watch someone play once in a while, man. It's like, experiencing the game all over again 'cause you've never played and this time I don't have to do any of the work," he says.

"Does this mean you're going to help me out?" Kurt asks, half paying attention and half trying to not die from the weird creatures wandering about the underwater city.

"Fuck, no, I wanna see your face when the Big Daddies pop up," Finn laughs.

Kurt glares at him, but Bioshock turns out to be a pretty cool game. Blaine is impressed when Kurt texts him about it and keeps texting Finn for updates while Kurt's playing.

It's not until he finally stands up and stretches after hours of sitting on Finn's floor that Kurt realizes just how _normal_ his day had been. Just like every other teenage boy.

What a strange feeling.

* * *

><p><em>Kurt runs, runs, runs, legs burning and heart pounding and chest tight and breath ripping its way out of his throat, but he's too slow, too slow he's gaining he's gaining FUCKING HELP ME SOMEONE STOP HIM<em>

_ He turns down another hallway and it looks just like the previous one. Lockers stretch out into the darkness, bright red and mocking and looming and they magnify Kurt's harsh breathing until it's __**screaming**__ in his ears. Behind him are footsteps, big and heavy and full of inevitability and a laugh echoes louder and louder and Kurt turns with a sob to see __**him**__oh God and he's running again even though the lockers never end because what else can he do? _

_ His nightmare, tormentor, torturer, assaulter follows, bigger and stronger than Kurt remembers, eyes cold and furious and huge hands holding a hockey stick. Karofsky slaps the stick on the lockers a few times as he chases Kurt, the clang rattling through Kurt's bones and shooting fear up his spine._

_ He knows exactly what Karofsky wants to do with that stick._

_**"Kurt?"**_

_ No. Please no._

_**"Kurt, where are you?"**_

_ He stops, feet suddenly leaden, and Kurt looks over his shoulder to see Karofsky's face curl up in a horrible smiles and Kurt just wants to throw up._

"_**Kurt!"**_

_"RUN!" Kurt screams. His chest heaves and he can't breathe but he's going to do this. He's going to protect him if it's the last thing he'll do. "RUN, BLAINE!"_

_ He steps forward to bolt again but large fingers wind through his hair and yank him into the lockers and Kurt collides with the unyielding metal with a harsh bang. His legs collapse beneath him and Kurt can feel thick blood drip down his face. The sick, coppery smell clogs his nose and Kurt gags on it._

_**"Kurt!"**_

_ Louder. Karofsky's eyes turn cruel and gleeful and he grabs Kurt's collar and yanks him to his feet. Slamming Kurt against the lockers, he presses close and Kurt can feel __**IT**_**, **_digging into his stomach and he bites back a sob, oh God please help, he doesn't want this. Hard fists pound his soft stomach and chest until Kurt's screaming in pain and he hears Blaine, sweet Blaine, running closer._

_ No no no Blaine stay away no_

_ He blacks out, Kurt thinks, but it's hard to think everything hurts everything's fuzzy and bright and loud and painful. The floor tile thing is cold against his cheeks and his breathing is followed by a weird wheezing and he can't move his lower body without PAIN shooting everywhere but he can see oh yes he can see and it's exactly what Karofsky wants him to. Kurt tries to move his hands, to reach out but he can't he can't he can't move and frustrated tears leak out his eyes and mix with the blood on his cheeks._

_ Blaine is next to him. Eyes dull brown, full of hurt and pain and loss and Kurt needs to touch him needs to tell him everything's going to be okay because this isn't real it can't be he couldn't have failed Blaine like this, it's not real._

_ Karofsky's on top of him, straddling Blaine's waist and bile rises in his throat at the sight of Blaine's bloodied clothes and broken body and the hockey stick a few feet away and bloodied at both ends and as Kurt watches Karofsky smiles and grabs Blaine's chin and hair and twists and something SNAPS loud and clear and it reverberates through Kurt's body and then Blaine's staring at him with DEAD eyes, EMPTY eyes and no no no nononono_

_ "Wake up," Kurt whispers to himself. "It's not real; wake up; it's just a dream oh god please let it be just a dream," he babbles over and over and Karofsky stands up and walks towards him and Kurt can't move and Blaine's lifeless eyes don't let him look away he can't help help it's not real it's not real IT'S NOT FUCKING REAL_

_ Karofsky's hands tug at his clothes and the air is cold against his skin as Karofsky flips him onto his back and strokes up and down his chest and lower and lower and Kurt screams._

_ "IT'S NOT REAL!" he can't stop himself "IT'S NOT REAL, IT'S NOT FUCKING REAL I'M BETTER THAN YOU AND YOU CAN'T BREAK ME BECAUSE THIS IS NOT FUCKING __**REAL—**__"_

* * *

><p>Kurt's crying so hard when he wakes up to Xena's frantic pawing and whining that he falls out of bed as he bolts for the bathroom. His knee bangs against the bed frame and a jolt of pain shoots down his leg, but Kurt's too busy trying not to vomit all over himself to really notice. He barely gets the toilet seat up before he's retching and coughing up all of the junk food he ate that afternoon. The cool porcelain against his forehead feels amazing until he remembers the dream and turning to see <em>Blaine hurt bloodied abused dead<em> and he throws up again, wincing at the harsh acid against his raw throat.

A pounding at his door startles Kurt and he jumps, heart thumping. "I'm fine, Dad," Kurt calls, hoping he doesn't sound like he's been sobbing for the past hour. Deep, gulping breaths, one at a time. It was just a dream. "It wasn't real," Kurt whispers to himself and squeezes his eyes shut.

"Kurt?"

"I'm _fine_, go back to bed!" Kurt's fingers clench around the toilet bowl hard enough to turn the knuckles white. The very last thing he wants is to see his father after that dream. They haven't been that bad in a long time. A faint whimper catches his attention and Kurt sees Xena huddled at the open bathroom door. Her ears and tail are low and she presses herself into the ground and watches Kurt so mournfully and _fuck_ he's even being pitied by a damn _dog_.

His dad doesn't give up though. "Kiddo, I heard you, they've never been so—"

"I SAID I'M FUCKING _FINE!" _Kurt roars. The outburst scares him and Xena, who yelps and scoots backward a few inches but doesn't stop _looking_ at him and Kurt is just so done. Burt knocks again but Kurt ignores it. He spits again into the toilet and wipes his mouth before holding out a tentative hand to his (_and Blaine's_) dog.

"I'm sorry girl, I wasn't yelling at you," Kurt whispers brokenly. "C'mere, I could really use some love considering my boyfriend's too far away and going through his own shit." He's prepared to sit there against his bathtub for a while to convince Xena to come closer to him, but Xena doesn't waste a second. She pads into the bathroom, nails clacking against the tiles and pushing into Kurt until she can lick at his face and nuzzle into his chest and Kurt can't do much else but wrap his arms around her neck and cry. Somehow, she knows to just wait and she doesn't move away from him even when he shakes and shudders under her.

It just hurts so _badly_ and he can't explain it or think about it; he can only feel it and let it all out into her fur. Xena curls up half in his lap and the weight against his legs grounds him and keeps him sane and Kurt eventually just leans back and breathes. It's easier now. He doesn't feel like there's a giant squeezing his chest, no, now he can just breathe and relax and be calm. He's calm.

Kurt runs his hand over Xena's fur, scratching at her ears like he knows she likes. "What would I do without you, girl, huh?" he murmurs. "Thank you." He's quiet for a long time, suddenly bone-weary and exhausted. But he feels…incomplete.

"I should call him," Kurt says quietly. Xena makes a soft noise in her throat. "He'd want me to. I should—I should call him." Kurt's phone is on his night table and next to the bed. It's not that far. Literally, right around the corner. His heart lodges up in his throat and his hand stills on Xena, and Kurt hates that he's still so fucking scared. It's so stupid. He's not five anymore, he can go to sleep after a nightmare.

It wasn't real.

The dream flashes across his eyes and he can feel that _snap_ that took Blaine away from him and his stomach roils and that's what makes up Kurt's mind for him.

Kurt nudges Xena off of him and he stands, albeit shakily and gripping the countertop with white fingers. He walks to him bed purposefully, but doesn't run, because he is calm. He's so calm. The phone, when he manages to pick it up, trembles in his hands but Kurt manages to get it unlocked and he flips to the phone app and taps Blaine's name before he wimps out.

It's late in California, almost two in the morning, but Blaine answers so fast Kurt wonders if he'd even gotten to sleep yet.

_"Kurt?"_

His voice is hesitant and hopeful and Kurt can imagine Blaine's huge hazel eyes looking at him with worry and earnest. Blaine just wants to help. He always has.

"Hey, Blaine," Kurt chokes out with a forced smile, wiping at his eyes again and sniffing. He's not very sexy at five in the morning but he hopes Blaine doesn't care. "I—um. I just…"

There's a soft rustling and Blaine's breath is even and steady in Kurt's ear. Kurt focuses on it, forces himself to match his breathing to Blaine's and he can _feel_ the tension draining from his shoulders. He leans back on his pillow and Xena jumps up next to him, curling around herself with her back pressed up against Kurt's outstretched legs.

He closes his eyes and breathes.

_"Do you wanna talk about it?"_ Blaine asks softly after half an hour goes by. The words are honest and open and undemanding and Kurt knows exactly what he's going to do.

He's ready to get better and he's tired of carrying this load by himself.

"I want to talk to you," Kurt whispers, almost too low for Blaine to hear. "I. I think. I'm ready. To talk."

Kurt takes in a deep breath and lets it out slowly.

"I had a dream tonight. A nightmare."

* * *

><p><strong>AN - Thanks for reading and favoriting and reviewing and everything, you guys are amazing. It's going to get better, I promise.**


	28. Chapter 28

**A/N - ****I kind of had an awesome day so here's a semi-depressing chapter! It's longer than usual though.**

**I have no idea if any of this is even plausible so I'm pulling the artistic license card. Enjoy! **

**Warnings- mentions of past non-con, swearing**

* * *

><p>They've been talking.<p>

Like, _really _talking. About what happened in the locker room, about what Kurt dreams about, about his depression and mood swings. It's hard and it's painful, but Kurt feels so much _better _after he lets it all out to Blaine. He's not judged or told empty promises, he can just _be_.

"I want you to be proud of me," Kurt whispers into the phone once, late at night.

"_Kurt…_" Blaine sucks in a breath, the line crackling slightly. _"I'm always proud of you. And I'm so glad you didn't throw my note back at my face that day." _

Kurt lets out a mix between a laugh and a sob and swallows hard. "You'd have beaten me up."

"_Idiot. I wouldn't've."_ Blaine says grumpily. Even a few hundred miles away, Kurt can see Blaine scowling while wrapped up in his covers. California must be warmer than Ohio, but Blaine's a closet cuddler and he loves his blankets.

"I'm glad I gave you a chance too," Kurt cuts him off quickly and holds his breath. He tries not to think about what it would have been like to go through this year alone. It's terrifying.

Sometimes Blaine stops and just _looks _at Kurt. His eyes get soft and pained and scared and then he'll hug Kurt, great big hugs and squeezes like he thinks Kurt's going to shatter and disappear if Blaine's not right there. They don't say anything during those times.

Kurt always changes the subject as soon as possible because he doesn't want to remember how he felt without _someone_ there.

That night, Kurt falls asleep to Blaine's breathing in his ear.

Blaine gets shipped back a few days early to no one's surprise. He sounds entirely too proud of himself when he calls Kurt and really, Kurt can't say he minds having his boyfriend back in the same time zone.

At the airport, Blaine barely catches sight of Kurt by the baggage claim before he's running across the room. He almost knocks over a little old lady with a million purses, but he doesn't slow down until he's barreling into Kurt and wrapping him up in his strong arms.

Blaine's scent surrounds Kurt and he hides his face in Blaine's neck and tries really hard not to cry. If they weren't in the middle of Ohio, Kurt probably would have kissed him, but Blaine seems just fine with the PG-rated hug.

"I missed you," Kurt gets out roughly, clutching the black leather of Blaine's jacket tightly. Against his chest, he can feel Blaine's heart thudding softly and it just feels like _home_.

"I _really_ fucking missed you," Blaine returns, not letting go.

Things go really well once Blaine's home. Until they don't.

* * *

><p>It starts off innocently. A standard white envelope with Kurt's name on it gets plopped down in front of him as Burt sorts through the mail. Kurt doesn't even notice at first, too busy drinking coffee and petting Xena as he flips through the paper after school. Blaine's with his mom for the night, for once.<p>

Ever since he got back from California, he tries to spend more time with her. Kurt doesn't mind. He knows Blaine's in contact with his dad's girlfriend too, but he doesn't ask about that. It's not any of his business.

The envelope sits innocently until it catches Kurt's eye. "What's this?" he asks Burt, a sense of apprehension settling deep within his chest. He doesn't like that envelope. It looks distrustful.

"No idea, kiddo," Burt replies absently. He scans yet another bill and scowls. "Go open it; might be some good news in this pile of crap."

The paper is heavy in Kurt's hand and thick, with his name carefully handwritten on the front. Kurt stares at the writing. It looks familiar, but it's not Blaine's and there's no reason why anyone would write to him with paper and pen these days, anyway. Xena whines and bats at Kurt's leg, but he doesn't pay her any attention and keeps examining the letter, turning the envelope over and over in his hands. The return address is just an official-looking crest, with olive branches and an eagle and pillars. Kurt squints at the tiny writing around the edge.

_Lima County Juvenile Detention Center_

"No," Kurt breathes out, suddenly lightheaded. _No._

He wouldn't _dare_. Not after what he did.

With numb hands, Kurt flips the envelope over and works the flap open with shaking hands. Inside there are a few pages filled with messy, cramped writing. Kurt pulls them out mechanically. It's like he can't stop himself, can't stop his eyes from reading those words. He makes it through the first two sentences before he stands up abruptly storms away, ignoring his dad's worried call. Xena tries to catch up to Kurt's quick pace. The letter is still clutched in his hand and it crunches under his grip

He's not sure if he's trembling from fear or anger, but Kurt's pretty fucking sure it doesn't matter at this point. The words he read keep running through his head, loud and large and accusing and Kurt just needs to _scream_ and get away or cry.

"_Dear Kurt,  
>I know you don't owe me anything after what I did to you, but I'm writing this anyway. I just want to explain myself and I hope you can understand me after I'm done."<em>

Kurt slams his bedroom door behind him, feeling a twinge of guilt at Xena's confused yelp, but he needs to be alone. Just alone so he can think. It's hard to breath with his chest so tight and he gulps in air as he paces up and down, up and down, eyes stinging from unshed tears. He was doing _so good_; he was _better_, why this? Why now?

When his lungs start burning and vision narrows, Kurt realizes he's well on his way to a panic attack and he fumbles with his phone until he's calling _Blaine_ and Kurt collapses to the floor and leans against the bed. Squeezing his eyes shut, Kurt tries to slow his ragged breathing, but he just keeps seeing _him_ and he's _there_ and _looming_ and _angry_ and Kurt chokes out a sob before hiding his face in his knees and pressing the phone so tight against his ear he vaguely wonders if it will crack.

"_I hope you can understand me."_

It takes everything to not throw up right there on his carpet.

Through a fog, Kurt can hear his dad pounding on the door, but then Blaine finally picks up and everything else fades.

"_Kurt?"_

"He wrote to me," Kurt says bitterly. He doesn't want to explain and really hopes Blaine gets what he's not saying. Kurt knows how he must sound, voice raw and choked and breathing harsh. It's just fucking typical.

Blaine's silent for a long time. _"Karofsky?"_ he snarls and Kurt leans back and closes his eyes. His dad has stopped pounding on the door and there's a soft beep in his ear alerting Kurt to a new text message. He pulls his phone away briefly after telling Blaine to wait.

_From: Dad  
>If you're talking to Blaine that's fine let me know<em>

Kurt responds with a simple _'yes'_ and goes back to the call.

"_Karofsky wrote you a fucking letter?!"_ Blaine seethes through the speakers and Kurt just nods.

"He wants…I don't know. Closure. Forgiveness." Kurt glares at the letter pile a few feet away from him on the floor. He doesn't even remember dropping it. He inhales sharply. "I didn't read all of it. Yet." He rubs his forehead.

"_I can come over."_

Kurt nods before he remembers Blaine can't see him. "Please," he whispers brokenly.

Later that night, Kurt winds up at the kitchen table with Blaine, his dad, Carol, _Finn_, and Dr. Englund. The letter is sitting in the middle of the wood like some bizarre centerpiece, creased from multiple readings. Kurt's only allowed Blaine and Dr. Englund to read it so far. His father looked so hurt, but Kurt stayed firm. There are some things fathers should never have to read about their children, and the look on Blaine's face said more than enough about the letter's contents.

He hasn't finished it, hasn't read past those first two damning sentences, but he can still feel _his _presence looming over his shoulders. It makes Kurt jittery and tense and frayed.

Everyone keeps looking at him and even Xena is curled up in the corner and whining occasionally and Kurt can't take the silence anymore so he squeezes Blaine's hand for strength and breathes out.

"Why?" Kurt winces inwardly at how his voice cracks on the single word. "I felt safe. He couldn't get me. He-he was gone. How can he still do this to me?" He turns to Blaine, who is a mix between fury and sorrow. "I can't escape him," Kurt whispers so only Blaine can hear. Blaine shifts his chair closer and pulls Kurt into a fierce hug.

"Someone give me a fucking good reason why I shouldn't drive to that prison and punch out Karofsky's teeth," Blaine growls over Kurt's shoulder. His fingers tighten in Kurt's shirt. "How the fuck was that damn letter even mailed?!"

"I second that one," Burt agrees, mouth set in a deep frown. Next to him, Carole hasn't taken her eyes off of Kurt, but the motherly pity in her eyes makes Kurt's chest hurt and he buries his face in Blaine's neck to avoid her.

Dr. Englund stands up abruptly. "I need to use a phone," she says and Kurt tenses at the hardness in her voice. She's never been anything but calm and rational during their sessions, even when Kurt insults everything from her clothes to her family to her job, and this anger is almost frightening. Kurt watches with wide eyes as his dad hands her the cordless house phone and she storms out of the room with a furious expression.

"Are you gonna read it?" Finn suddenly asks and that's enough to get Kurt's attention. He pulls away from Blaine and stares at Finn incredulously. Carol pinches the bridge of her nose in exasperation.

"What?"

Shifting uncomfortably, Finn drops his gaze and waves at the discarded letter. "Aren't you, like, he pauses as if searching for the words. "Aren't you gonna see what he says?"

Blaine snarls but Kurt elbows him sharply. "No," he says aloud. "He doesn't get to have power over me like this. I don't owe him anything. I don't owe him forgiveness and I _certainly_ don't owe him the chance to try." The words are true, but they come out hollow and Kurt knows he's going to give in and he hates himself for that. Behind him, Blaine hugs him closer, pressing his chest against Kurt's back.

"I don't give a flying fuck about _your_ patient!" an angry voice yells from the living room. They all stare at the entryway as Kurt's therapist continues her tirade. "Your patient _attacked_ mine, you imbecile;he's in jail! His rights don't trump his victim's!"

Kurt flinches at the words and leans back into Blaine. In the brief pause, Burt and Carole lock eyes, nervous and indignant expressions mirrored on their faces. Finn pales.

"Oh I'm sorry, _juvenile detention_," Dr. Englund spits out. "My bad," she continues and Kurt marvels at her sarcasm. It's so like his own. "Next time, I'll remember the distinction. But it doesn't change the fact that this stupidly homophobic town let _your_ patient off lightly for attempted rape. But he's just misunderstood."

Pause.

"He can have treatment as long as his therapy doesn't interfere with my patient's!" she roars and Kurt jumps back. Blaine whispers soft nothings in his ear, though he trembles like he wants nothing more than to drive to Lima's corrections facility and beat the shit out of Karofsky. Dr. Englund wasn't done. "Kurt deserves to feel safe and protected and heal from the attack, and he can't do that if his attacker is trying to contact him and ask him for forgiveness! … Figure something else out because it is not my problem. Expect a call from your superiors."

Sharp footsteps stomp their way back to the kitchen and Dr. Englund appears in the door with a flushed, angry face and heaving chest. No one bothers to hide that fact that they overheard the entire conversation, but Burt does silent pass her the cup of coffee she'd abandoned earlier.

"Thank you," she says politely, and sips it moodily. She doesn't stop watching Kurt. Her gaze is distrustful and worried and Kurt flushes.

"I'm not suicidal," Kurt mutters and pulls away from Blaine slightly. "Hearing his name isn't going to send me in a downward spiral of depression that leads to me slitting my wrists." _Again_, his mind supplies unhelpfully. Blaine glares at him and Kurt ignores the guilt building. He holds his hand out towards the floor and Xena pads over gratefully, licking at his fingers before allowing him to stroke through her fur.

Arching a very unimpressed eyebrow, Dr. Englund puts down her cup. "The letter was a therapy tool for David," she says instead. "His…counselor…thought it would help him come to terms with what he did so he could forgive himself and move on."

Blaine snorts and Burt's face grows red, but it's Finn that shocks everyone. "But, like," He glances at Kurt helplessly. "He screwed up. He's the one that hurt my brother; why should he heal before Kurt can?"

"He's still a person," Kurt says quietly. His chest aches and he's suddenly just _tired_, emotionally and physically, but Blaine stares at him in disbelief and Kurt knows he has to explain. "What…what he did was—it was unforgivable. But he's a person and he had his reasons and I should hear him out. Maybe it won't help him, maybe it won't help me; but he was in a really messed up situation and I just…I want to know."

Scoffing, Blaine leans back in his seat and crosses his arms. He doesn't stop glaring at Kurt. "You don't owe that shithead anything," he snarls. "He doesn't deserve an excuse. He tried to _rape you_—"

"I KNOW!" Kurt shouts, slamming a fist on the table. It's hard to breath and he can feel the shocked eyes on him, but _fuck_. "I was _there_, Blaine, I'm aware of what he did to me! What he did for weeks!" It's the first time Kurt's really admitted that the Karofsky situation was more than just that one day in the locker room. He tries to calm down, tries to release his hands from their tight fists, but he keeps feeling _him_. Blaine hasn't moved. No one has.

Jesus, when did everything get so complicated?

Kurt swallows hard, searching for the right words. "I want to know. Why." His voice comes out haltingly. "I deserve that. For me. Not. Him."

They don't speak for a long time after that.

* * *

><p>"I still think this is a bad idea," Blaine says a few days later behind the wheel of Kurt's Navigator. His fingers are white around the steering wheel and his mouth is set in a hard line. "You're being a fucking moron." Blaine glares at his passenger.<p>

"Thank you for driving me," Kurt whispers, staring out the window at the passing scenery. His hands twist nervously in his lap, clenching and unclenching the letter. _You can do this._

Blaine snorts and shakes his head. "Fucking _idiot_," he swears under his breath. It should be insulting, but Kurt hears the worry underneath the frustration. "When your dad finds out, this was your idea." He says it like a threat, but it sounds more scared than anything.

"Yeah."

He's read the letter through several times. He cried the first time, torn between sadness, guilt, horror and sickness. The second time, he was numb. Third, angry. Fourth…well. That's when Kurt decided he needed to take a trip to Kenton.

Lima decided it needed a detention center for juvenile offenders. However, they built the center the next town over in Kenton. Lima taxpayers funded it, so it retained the Lima County seal, but both towns were furious at the outcome. It had been a big deal when Kurt was little, though his dad always rolled his eyes at the news and muttered about people always complaining. The facility is just over ten years old, but looks older and even more depressing than Kurt had expected when they pull into the nearly vacant lot.

Grey, square and unwelcoming, the building looms out of the ground like it had oozed up from beneath the dirt without a care. Kurt doesn't unbuckle himself immediately; instead he chooses to watch the cold exterior for several minutes.

Blaine nudges his shoulder. "We can just leave. You don't have to go inside." His voice is soft and Kurt smiles weakly.

"I really do," Kurt says, but grabs Blaine's hand all the same. "You'll come with me?"

"I'm not leaving you."

"And you're going to let me talk? And not punch him when you see him?"

Blaine grins evilly.

"_Blaine."_

"Fine!" He scowls. "I won't punch him. Right away," Blaine adds with a growl.

It's probably the best Kurt's going to get so he drops Blaine's hand and gets out of the car. Blaine follows quickly, hurrying through the unseasonably cool air.

Inside is a blur of security checks and pat downs and signing false names to the register before they wait for visiting hours. After an hour, they're escorted to a small room with a table and some folding chairs. Kurt sits stiffly in one while they wait with his arms wrapped tight around his middle. Blaine moodily leans back in his with his arms crossed and feet resting on another. He's not happy and he wants Kurt to know. Kurt ignores him.

When the door opens again and a shrunken boy shuffles in after a guard, Kurt freezes in sudden fear, but forces himself to relax enough that only Blaine would notice his terror.

Karofsky… looks terrible. He's thinner and pale, with the grey jumpsuit hanging off his frame and downcast eyes. His nose is slightly deformed, probably from the two times Kurt broke it. Even his shoulders slump down like they're carrying a huge weight.

The boy in Kurt's nightmares has been reduced to this shell. And Kurt's not sure how he feels about it.

The guard leads Karofsky to the table and Kurt notices the silver handcuffs around his wrists. They aren't removed. The guard, a young man with sandy hair glances at Kurt after getting Karofsky situated.

"D'you want me in here?" he asks with a Southern drawl.

Kurt murmurs "no" while Blaine firmly says "yes!" After Kurt glares, Blaine rolls his eyes. "No," he grunts, slouching in his chair again and shooting Karofsky a dirty look.

The guard's eyes flicker between the two but nod. "I'll be outside, just call." He turns to Karofsky. "_Behave_, David." Karofsky nods listlessly and the guard leaves.

The room is tense and silent as Kurt searches for the right words. Karofsky doesn't even look at him; preferring to pick at his nails and sleeves. Finally Kurt drags his chair to the other side of the table and sits, leaning his elbows on the surface.

"Look at me, Karofsky," he says quietly. Getting no response, anger bubbles through Kurt's veins. "I said, LOOK AT ME."

Karofsky jumps at the hard tone and stares at Kurt in shock. His eyes grow shiny and scared and _fuck him_ he has _no right_—Kurt breathes out harshly to calm down. Blaine shifts minutely in the corner of his eye, like he's readying for something. But Kurt wants answers.

"You. You sent me this." Kurt drops the letter on the table between them. Karofsky's eyes flit down to the white paper before resettling on Kurt.

"You look good," he says hoarsely, changing the subject. Kurt's skin crawls and he fights the urge to run.

Blaine growls and leans forward. "No thanks to you," he sneers. "But one more word about Kurt's appearance and I'll break your teeth, asshole."

Karofsky looks affronted and bristles at Blaine's words. He leans closer to Kurt and gestures to Blaine with his chained hands. "Still with that piece of shit, huh?" he asks.

"Well, he never tried to rape me, so that's a major plus," Kurt retorts. This is already so out of hand and Kurt glares Blaine into sulky submission. Karofsky flinches and slumps back in his chair.

"I said I was sorry in the letter," he mumbles and Kurt barks out a laugh that verges on hysterical.

"Sorry doesn't erase what you did!" Kurt hisses. He clenches his hands into tight fists because he'll do something awful to Karofsky if he doesn't. Karofsky avoids his eyes again and Kurt snaps. "Karofsky! Look. At. Me. Face what you did to me!"

"Dave." Karofsky says like it has some secret meaning.

"What?"

"Just…call me Dave," he explains in a hurt voice. "Not Karofsky. My name is Dave."

_Shit_. He's trying to humanize himself, Kurt realizes. To distance himself from the person that tortured Kurt. It's horrifying and _sick_ and…Kurt snaps his mouth shut and rubs his face. This is so much harder than he thought.

"Kurt can call you whatever he wants," Blaine puts in. Karofsky glares at him but Blaine just cocks an eyebrow tauntingly.

"Kurt—"

"Don't say his name!"

"_Blaine_." Kurt shoots him a warning glance. "Please." Blaine scowls but raises him arms in mock surrender. He doesn't stop watching Dave though.

Kurt sighs. "Fine. _Dave_." The name tastes foul in his mouth, but Kurt gets over it. "Why did you send me this?" He pushes the letter ever so slightly towards his old tormenter, but Karofsky ignores it.

"You do look great. Azimio said you'd been wearing Hudson's shit but…I'm glad you stopped." His eyes drag down Kurt's vest-covered torso and Kurt's tries not to throw up at his hungry gaze. "I like your hair too. You really can pull off any look, Kurt."

"Stop that." He whispers, fighting the urge to shiver.

"Stop what? I'm just saying—"

"I'm with Blaine! Don't try to flirt with me, especially—_especially—_after what you did to me. Don't. I read your fucking letter, I know you think what happened was some—fucking _weird_—misdirection of jealously, but you can't _do_ this to me." Kurt's hates how his voice chokes up and his hands won't stop _shaking_ but Dave has to hear this.

"I said I was sorry," Dave says, hurt. "I know what I did was wrong and I'm gonna regret it every day for the rest of my life but it doesn't change that I love you, Kurt." His eyes shine with hope and Kurt's stomach roils unpleasantly as his heart drops like a stone. _That_ part hadn't been in Dave's confessional. Next to him Blaine looks downright murderous but Kurt has other things to worry about.

"You love me?" Kurt repeats hoarsely.

Dave nods with a slow grin. "Yeah," he breathes, like he's been holding it in for a long time. "I've been workin' on myself, y'know? Been learning to accept that I'm gay and that some people won't like it, like my mom, but that's ok because there will be others that'll like me for me. Like you."

"Dave—" Kurt can't even begin with this fucked up logic. His head swims and he vaguely wonders if he's going to faint. Blaine trembles, gripping his chair's arms with vibrating hands like he's holding himself back from killing Karofsky.

"So I wrote you the letter. 'Cause I really fucked up with you and I wanted to fix it and maybe…" He trails off and glances at Blaine, seemingly undisturbed by the look of rage on his face. "Well, you and him might not be together forever. He's a dick and you deserve so much better than a testosterone-filled druggie."

Ah. It all falls into place. "So, what? You wrote this letter thinking I'd read it and forgive you? Fall into your arms and patiently wait for two years until you're released and then we'd be together?" Kurt voices rises as he goes on. He waves at the pile of paper between them. "Was that really what you thought would happen? You thought I'd leave Blaine for you if you blamed _literally_ everything from society to your mom for the fact that you couldn't control yourself around me, and I would _forgive you_?!"

"Kurt—"

"Shut up! It's my turn!" Kurt snaps. He tries to calm his breathing before thinking that to hell with it: this shit has gone on long enough. "You tried to rape me."

"I didn't actually—"

"That doesn't fucking matter! You _tried_!" Kurt runs his hands through his hair in frustration. The prison's therapist sucks. He lets out a harsh breath and glares at Karofsky. God, he hates him so much. "Say it!"

"I—" Karofsky just stares with wide eyes.

"You tried to _rape_ me." Kurt repeats. "And before that, you _stalked_ me. Intimidated me, threw me into lockers, slushied me, _groped me_, stole my first kiss—"

"Kurt, I'm sorry, I—" Karofsky's eyes actually filled with tears and it just makes Kurt angrier.

"I still have nightmares about you." Kurt shakes his head and scoffs. "Every night! I wake up crying because you come back and finish the job. You either rape me, or kill me, or both. Or you do it to Blaine first and make me watch, and _then_ me." Blaine silently grabs one of Kurt's hands stokes his thumb over Kurt's knuckles. It's comforting and Kurt focuses on the rough calluses on Blaine's fingers to calm down. It doesn't really work and he just wants to cry. "You and I aren't going to happen. I hope…I hope you can find someone who can be with you in the future, but it won't be me."

Karofsky's face crumbles and he looks heartbroken but Kurt just sniffs roughly and wipes at his tearing eyes. "Kurt, I mean it; I'm so sorry, I'm _sorry_," Karofsky whispers and Kurt doesn't care.

"It doesn't matter." Kurt laughs bitterly and shakes his head again. "I know. I know you made a lot of mistakes but these…I can't forgive you. I can't." He stands up abruptly, pulling Blaine with him. "Never contact me again." Kurt takes one last look at Karofksy's eyes, so devoid of hope and filled with anguish and turns away.

He leaves the letters.

It feels like freedom.

* * *

><p><strong>AN - As usual, thanks for reading and all the support, you guys are amazing!**


	29. Chapter 29

**A/N - I know, this is up so fast! Thanks for reading! **

**Warnings - swearing mostly**

* * *

><p>The past few months—hell, the past <em>year<em>—Kurt's lost track of how many times he's completely broken down and just cried.

Not a just few tears here and there, but deep, heart-wrenching, chest-heaving, pain-filled _sobbing_ until he can barely see through his swollen eyes and his throat hurts and his head feels stuffed with cotton.

Kurt cries a lot. It's at the point where he's too tired to even get embarrassed anymore, he just lets whoever is closest do their best to help him stop. Usually it's Blaine or Xena, but sometimes Burt. Once, Finn. Rarely Carole, but that's more because Kurt avoids her as much as possible. She's a wonderful person and she makes his father happy, but she's not his _mom_. He can't explain it. Once, he tried to tell his dad, but Burt just looked confused and a little hurt, so Kurt doesn't say anything now. He just dodges Carole's touches and hugs and talks and pretends not to see how her face falls every time he leaves her. He's not ready to let go of his mom yet.

He's getting better, though, especially after he started opening up and actually talking to Blaine about what he feels. Confronting Karofsky, strangely enough, helped too. Even Dr. Englund is impressed. Not that the nightmares stop, but they do slow down.

Kurt is used to crying.

But he doesn't exactly know how to deal with it when someone else breaks down before his eyes.

Even less so when the one breaking down is the same one that's been his rock for last six months.

* * *

><p>When Kurt opens the door amid the frantically ringing doorbell, he's not prepared for the small body of compact muscles and curly hair that flies at him.<p>

"Oof!" Kurt grunts out in surprise as arms wind around his waist and a head buries itself in his neck. "Blaine?" Kurt asks hesitantly, backing them up slightly so he can shut the door. Blaine doesn't answer, but his body shakes against Kurt's and he feels his shirt getting wet. Kurt gently strokes his fingers through Blaine's hair. It doesn't calm him this time.

"Kurt…"

He's not completely proud of himself, but Kurt panics a little at the sound of Blaine's defeated, _upset_ voice. It's just not right; it's _so_ not right to hear Blaine as anything other than fierce and strong and confident. So he ends up just holding Blaine tighter and rocking a little, still in the cramped hallway. A cold, wet nose nudges at his thigh and Kurt looks over Blaine's head to see a dejected Xena sitting next to them. She whines again and starts pawing at Blaine's leg; obviously hoping for a greeting or some love but Blaine only clutches Kurt to himself.

Burt comes out of the kitchen at Xena's whining and stares at the sight of his son's boyfriend practically wrapped around Kurt. He catches Kurt's eye in a clear _what's going on_ and Kurt shakes his head minutely. Hopefully his dad will understand. Burt nods and whistles gently, drawing Xena away from their legs.

"C'mon, girl," Burt mutters, guiding her behind him. With a last worried look at the pair in the entryway, he leaves them alone. Kurt hears him softly telling Carole not to bother them and Kurt really fucking loves his dad. But he has to take care of his boyfriend now.

"Blaine, we're going to move to my room upstairs, okay?" Kurt says quietly, nudging Blaine's legs with his own. Blaine nods, but doesn't release his death grip on Kurt's shirt and they stumble a few steps until Kurt sighs. "Sweetie, if you don't let go we're going to fall down the stairs and break our necks, and I haven't picked out my funeral outfit yet." That gets a breathless chuckle and Blaine loosens his grip enough so that he could actually see the stair. He still squeezes Kurt's hand like he thinks he'll fall if he lets go.

Kurt's heart hurts when he realizes that.

Through gentle prodding and some pushing, Kurt somehow gets Blaine up the stairs and into his room, kicking the door closed behind him. Burt probably wouldn't approve but Kurt has a feeling this is private. Blaine releases his hand once they're through the doors and crosses the room to the bed, sitting gingerly on the edge. With his arms folded tight against his chest and his head bowed, Blaine looks so _small_.

Something pulls at Kurt's heart again, but he knows how Blaine reacts to prodding when he's upset so Kurt silently sits next to him, offering his hand. He lets out a relieved breath when Blaine retakes it. If nothing else, Blaine's still reachable.

They still don't speak, though Kurt rubs his thumb over Blaine's knuckles in a smooth rhythm. Out of the corner of his eye, Blaine's shoulders are shaking and he keeps lifting his other hand to his face and sniffing wetly, and fuck it, Kurt can't take much more. He's still more than a little freaked out about what could possibly have set Blaine off so badly especially because he's actually starting to lose feeling in his fingers from how tightly Blaine is squeezing.

"Blaine, honey?" Kurt finally says quietly. "Could you please loosen up some? My fingers are starting to fall asleep." He wiggles them a little and Blaine starts, staring at their entwined fingers. His cheeks flush with embarrassment and Blaine immediately tries to drop Kurt's hand.

"Sorry, I didn't mean…"

"I didn't say 'let go.'" Kurt interrupts, still holding on. Blaine cracks a smile, though he still won't look up. Instead he massages some feeling back into Kurt's fingers.

His eyes are red and puffy and his curls are a mess and he doesn't stop pulling on his earrings and Kurt knows this can't go on.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Kurt asks softly. He doesn't exactly expect Blaine to spill everything right away, but he certainly doesn't expect the harsh scoff he gets.

"'Cause that's worked so well for you." Blaine snaps. His tone is bitter and resentful and Kurt narrows his eyes.

"_Blaine_." And ouch, that fucking hurt. Like a shot to the gut.

"_Kurt_." He finally looks up and glares, but at least he's talking instead of crying so Kurt counts it as progress.

"Come on. Let me be here for you. You're upset; tell me why." Kurt tries to be patient and squashes down his annoyance at Blaine's callous words. He's starting to get an idea of what Blaine went through with him; how hard Kurt's mood swings and trauma were to deal with. It's frustrating as hell to contain his urge to yell and shake him and ask _what's wrong tell me so I can fix it_ but that's not what Blaine needs right now.

Blaine shakes his head and studies his feet, mouth turned into a deep frown. It's weird to see a position Kurt felt himself in so often from the other side. He almost laughs, but instead drops Blaine's hand so he can rub his boyfriend's back. Blaine's so tactile that any kind of touch helps him, so Kurt shifts closer until they're touching sides to legs, and Kurt lets his head drop on Blaine's shoulder with his arm around Blaine's waist. Blaine fits perfectly.

After another bout of silence where Kurt listens to Blaine's breathing start to hitch again and his chest shudder with every muffled breath, Blaine speaks up.

"It's fucking stupid," he mutters in a rough voice. Kurt sits up but doesn't stop his fingers from gently rubbing Blaine's hipbone.

"You're the one that told me that it doesn't matter how dumb something is, if it upsets you, it's important," Kurt says, echoing Blaine's words a few weeks ago. He really needs to tell Blaine more often how much he helps because that advice is some of the best he's ever heard.

Blaine shrugs defiantly.

"You came here," Kurt reminds him. "You came here, let me help you for once, okay? I'm not completely useless, I am good at cuddles." He tries to smile, but Blaine shakes his head again.

"I'm being a fucking idiot." Blaine rubs his face hard, like he wishes he could vanish. "You have enough problems without me dumping my shit on you. I shouldn't have come." He tries to stand but Kurt yanks his stupid boyfriend back down because they should have been over this crap weeks ago.

Fixing him with a glare, Kurt pins Blaine's hand to the bed. "What did we say about you making decisions for me?" Kurt growls.

Blaine gulps at Kurt's expression. "Um. Don't?"

"Exactly." Kurt releases him, but not before smacking his shoulder. "Stop being a moron and tell me what made you so upset." Tough love works wonders on Blaine.

"Aw, you make me so tingly when you get bossy—"

"_Blaine!_"

He scowls. "Alright, Christ." Blaine rolls his eyes, but his expression sobers up quickly. "It's not really one thing," he mutters.

Kurt leans in and knocks their shoulders together gently. "That's okay. You've been under a lot of stress lately, thanks to me."

"Nothing like you have."

"Don't, Blaine, I know I haven't exactly been the best boyfriend—"

"—I don't regret it, you know that?" Blaine seems so _sure_ Kurt almost can believe it. "Not a single second. You're worth everything."

They pause.

"So why don't you believe that about yourself?" Kurt asks quietly. "We're a team, right? Soulmates. Two halves of the same coin." He laughs at Blaine's face wrinkling up in displeasure. "Yeah, it's cheesy as hell, but we're partners. We help each other." At least he gets a nod out of it. "Come on. I want to help."

Blaine lets out a long, deep sigh, but his shoulders relax ever so slightly. "I haven't been sleeping well," Blaine finally admits, still fiddling with earrings.

"Because of me?"

Guilt flashes over Blaine's face, but he nods. "Kind of. That's part of it; but some of it's just me. I never slept when I was a kid. Always a night owl." He shakes his head again, fingers moving faster over the earrings and Kurt reaches over and stills them with a touch. Blaine lets his hand be guided down into lap. "He just really got to me last week." Blaine mutters. He doesn't elaborate, but really, Kurt knows who Blaine means.

"You know he's wrong, right? You and I, Blaine, we're…" Kurt shrugs helplessly. "You're kind of it for me, okay? I know we're young and everything, but you are." How on Earth is Kurt going to be able to convince Blaine he's worth it? Because _he is._

"I know." Blaine says and Kurt stares at him in surprise. Blaine smiles crookedly. "You're it for me too." A bubble of happiness starts to form in Kurt's chest. It pops at the next few words. "But Kurt, you're just…" Blaine lets his sentence trail off.

Something like fear settles in Kurt's stomach. "I'm what?" Kurt asks, suddenly nervous.

"You're you." Blaine says, like that answers anything. Kurt gives him a hard look and Blaine snorts. "I mean. You're amazing and you've got this perfect voice, and you're smart, and creative, and fashionable and you're gonna take the world by storm and get out of this shit town as soon as you graduate and me?" Blaine huffs out a laugh and looks up at the ceiling. "I'm nothing." He shrugs.

He acts like he doesn't care, like he's accepted it, but there's a tear running down Blaine's cheek and he wipes it away, scowling at his hand.

"That's not true," Kurt whispers.

Blaine snorts again. "I'm not good at anything. I always screw shit up; I can't do anything right. Everything always goes to hell when I'm involved; fuck, look at what happened to you!"

Christ, they just keep going to circles. Because he's told Blaine _a million times_ that Karofsky wasn't his fault and he has to stop beating himself up about it.

Kurt wonders if Blaine's self-esteem is actually worse than his.

"Is that all that's bothering you?" Kurt asks in a low voice, half-scared of the answer. Predictably, Blaine frowns even more.

"'Course not." He crosses his arms and tenses. "I've been talking to Erica. Dad's girlfriend, y'know?" Kurt nods, wondering where this was going. It didn't sound good. "Yeah, well, Mom found out." Blaine sighs.

"And she was…"

"She was pissed. _Really_ pissed." Blaine's leg starts bouncing up and down and the anger pours off of him. "She yelled at me for taking Erica's side; for abandoning her even though I wasn't, I was just trying to keep Erica safe! Dad's starting to scare her but she's being so _stupid_ and she won't just _leave_ and Mom doesn't get it at all, she still loves that bastard even after everything he's put us through!" Blaine stands up abruptly and faces Kurt. "She hates me," Blaine chokes out, and Kurt kind of wants to cry at the anguished look on his face. "She honestly _hates _me."

It takes a second for Kurt to get his voice unstuck.

"She doesn't…"

"Of course she does," Blaine chuckled bitterly, and it sounds so _wrong_ coming from him. "She hates me. I ruined her life. My boyfriend's scared of me—" The vice around Kurt's heart squeezes. "—and he's gonna leave me when he finds someone better in—in New York or LA, or something and I'm nothing. I'm just fucking _nothing_." He looks at Kurt then. Resigned, bitter, angry, hurt, stressed, scared, and this cannot go on.

But how the hell can Kurt fix this when he's barely holding himself together?

Blaine's shaking again, arms wrapped tight around his stomach and sniffing mightily, like that will stop him from crying again. And Kurt knows what to do.

"Do you want some warm milk?" Kurt asks, startling Blaine.

Blaine stares at him and Kurt smiles serenely.

He's going to fix this. Not in one night, probably, but he will. This is something he can do.

Blaine deserves everything.

* * *

><p>It takes a long time. There's more crying, more tears, yelling, screaming, and hugs, from both of them. But things get hashed out and feelings and insecurities get confessed and then reassured, and Kurt's <em>so <em>glad his dad decided to take Carole out to the movies and made Finn go to Puck's for the night.

It definitely helps when they start making out in the kitchen, mugs long forgotten and them caught up only in each other and warmth and love and closeness and trust and hot skin and frantic lips and firm muscles. Cooling down takes longer that night.

Xena gets locked downstairs behind the child gate and Kurt and Blaine spend the rest of the night curled up in Kurt's bed, trading chaste kisses and watching horror movies. Sacrifices had to be made for his boyfriend, and honestly, Kurt doesn't mind hiding his face in Blaine's neck during most of _Grave Encounters_. He smells nice.

Before he falls asleep, Kurt thinks, _We're going to be okay._

* * *

><p>About a week after Blaine's breakdown and rebuilding, Kurt practically skips his way into McKinley one morning. Everything is perfect. The sky is a bright blue, the air is warm and smells like flowers, and Imagine Dragons is surprisingly a really kick-ass band.<p>

He'll have to thank Blaine for finding them, Kurt mentally reminds himself while trying to juggle Blaine's coffee and his iPhone.

"'_Cause I'm on top the world, ey!"_ Kurt sings under his breath, ignoring the weird looks the other students send him. No one's bringing him down today. Plus he knows for a fact Rachel burst out into _On My Own_ in Home Ec the day before after Finn told her that he's running for Junior Prom King with Quinn. This was so much less weird. _"I'm on top of the world, ey! Been waiting on this for while now, paying my dues to the dirt."_ He catches sight of Blaine ahead, scowling at his locker and Kurt grins wider.

"_I've been waiting to smile, ey! Been holding it in for a while, ey!" _Kurt keeps singing and half dancing; startling Blaine, whose expression quickly morphs into a mix of amusement and uncertainty. "_Take you with me if I can, been dreaming of this since a child. I'm on top of the world!_" Kurt finishes, pulling out his ear buds and shoving them in his pocket.

"Told they're a fucking awesome band," Blaine says, raising an eyebrow. "And have we learned to stop doubting me when I tell you to listen to a new song?"

"You aren't bringing me down today, don't even try," Kurt can't stop grinning and it has to be weird, but fuck it. He hugs Blaine quickly and shoves the Lima Bean coffee cup at him, beaming at Blaine's confusion. "Medium drip with cinnamon and sugar, just the way you like!" Kurt explains, motioning for Blaine to drink up. Blaine hates mornings and coffee is usually the only thing that keeps him awake and happy. And Kurt likes making his boyfriend happy.

Blaine narrows his eyes suspiciously, but takes a gulp of the coffee obediently. "Shit, that's good. Um, you okay?" He closes his locker and leans against it, hip cocked out. Students walk by and glance at them, but Kurt doesn't care. It's an _awesome_ day.

"I'm fine! I am _so_ fine, today is fine, school is fine, everything is just…fine!" Oh Jesus, he sounds high, but he can't help it. He's just _really_ happy and his feet keep bouncing and Blaine totally thinks he's insane.

Blaine takes another sip, raising an eyebrow. "You're in a good mood today," he comments.

"Mmmhmm." Kurt bites his lip and tries not to grin but he can't stop _bouncing_. "Ask me why." He can't _wait_.

Blaine still looks confused, but he's never been able to deny Kurt anything. "Okay, why are you acting like you snorted a bunch of happy pills this morning?" he drawls, laughing when Kurt smacks his shoulder.

"Blaine!" Kurt tries to glare but fails and laughs instead. So many people keep staring at him, oh Lord. "No! But…no nightmares," Kurt admits with a tone of wonder.

It takes a second for Blaine to understand and Kurt waits impatiently for Blaine to get it. "No…nightmares?" Blaine scrunches up his face in confusion but it clears almost instantly. "Wait, no nightmares? Kurt! That's fantastic!" Blaine laughs and smiles and Kurt's just _so fucking happy_.

Kurt lets his grin out and nods, grabbing Blaine in a tight hug. He remembers at the last second to be mindful of the coffee but nothing spills so he drops his head into the crook of Blaine's neck and just _breathes_. "It's just been a really long time, y'know?" Kurt says roughly into Blaine's shoulder. His throat closes up from emotion and Kurt clears it. "It feels really good. To be happy."

"You deserve it, babe," Blaine returns, sounding almost as choked. His scent surrounds Kurt, heart thudding reassuringly. "You're amazing."

For the first time in a long time, Kurt honestly believes him.

* * *

><p><strong>AN - Thanks for reading! You guys all rock! The song used was 'On Top of the World" by Imagine Dragons, and yes, I fudged with the release date a little. Say it was a live recording or soemthing. I just felt like the lyrics really fit with Kurt's emotional state right now, so artistic license?**

**I also posted a short drabble/one shot on my tumblr with skank!Kurt, the link's in my profile if you want to check it out. If you click on 'drabbles' it should come up.**

**Fair warning, I haven't actually watched Glee for the past few episodes because I'm kind of over the show. I still like the characters though, so never fear! I'm not quite done with Kurt or Blaine just yet!**

**Again, thank you for reading this, I appreciate each and every one of you!**


	30. Chapter 30

**A/N - **

**I'm so sorry this took so long, I was pretty stuck for a while! I think there's maybe 2 or 3 chapters left after this, and I want to thank all of your for the amazing support! Thanks as always for reading, and I hope you enjoy this update!**

* * *

><p>Kurt's life so far has been a series of two steps forward, ten steps back. He really should be used to it by now.<p>

But Kurt is almost seventeen years old and he can count only three truly good things that have ever happened in his life:

He met Blaine.

He remembers a good childhood with both his mom and his dad.

His dad remarried a sweet woman and they have a bigger family in Carole, Finn, Blaine, and Xena.

Unfortunately, his shit list is much longer and is topped with "mom died" and "Karofsky happened." He doesn't let himself elaborate because then he'll wind up sobbing in his closet and scaring the shit out of Blaine again. Blaine doesn't need his brand of crazy ever.

It's with a heavy heart and sense of foreboding that Kurt even lets himself consider Junior Prom. His preference to ignore the whole stupid tradition and stay in his room all weekend with the dog is ruined when Mr. Schue bursts into the choir room, beaming and announcing that the New Directions are taking over the music for prom. Blaine looks bored but Rachel gets this manic look in her eye and keeps glancing at Finn during Mr. Schue's speech. Finn's back with Quinn, weirdly enough, but Rachel hasn't given up yet and Kurt's so over that love triangle. Blaine just laughs when Kurt tries to explain them.

"This is _perfect_!" Rachel exclaims, jumping to her feet. "Now, I can handle the setlist; be prepared for your assignments by the end of the week—"

"Shut up, Rachel," Santana rolls her eyes before Rachel gets worked up.

"—And there will be plenty of time to dance with your partners!" Mr. Schue adds and Kurt rolls his eyes.

"Cause that's gonna go over great with this school," he mutters, earning a look from Blaine.

"You don't want to sing?" Mercedes whispered from his other side while Rachel rambles. Kurt shook his head, thinking about all those eyes just staring at him. And the whispers, and the pity, just piling on him, like before. He crosses his arms and hunches his shoulders. "Yeah, me either," Mercedes says sadly. Kurt and Rachel stare at her, but she doesn't continue. Mercedes Jones never turns down the spotlight. Even Sam and Puck look confused.

"Oh Lord, why not?" Santana drawls from the back, where she's playing with Brittany's hair.

Mercedes studies her feet. "I don't have a date." She says it quietly. As if Kurt didn't feel enough like shit, those resigned words take the cake. He's been an awful friend; he hasn't known what was going on with her for months. Too caught up in Blaine and Karofsky to bother.

As if on cue, Blaine slides an arm around his waist and tugs Kurt to his side. And damn, that was a look of jealousy from Mercedes.

"Just go ask some guy," Santana waved dismissively. "This isn't a crisis situation, Aretha."

Kurt can feel Blaine grin next to him, obviously anticipating a fight. Sure enough, Mercedes bristles.

"Yeah? You going with Blondie or some roided-up jock you coerced into running for Prom King with you?" she snaps, twisting in her seat to glare at a furious Santana. Tina barely hides a snicker, but Puck laughs outright and there goes any chance of this not turning violent. Kurt sighs against Blaine.

Quinn cuts off Santana's retort with an offended gasp. "You're running against me for Prom Queen?!" She says angrily, also glaring at Santana.

"Stop the violence," Brittany says, but no one listens to her because Quinn looks ready to jump over the chairs and rip off Santana's hair with her bare hands.

"This was news?" Blaine interjects, amused. "She's taking Stephens. The posters are all over school, sweetheart. Got your work cut out for you now." He cackles cruelly and Quinn's glare shifts like she's not sure if she should murder Blaine or Santana first.

"Dude, lay off my girlfriend," Finn shoves at Blaine's shoulder and Kurt can just _see_ Blaine considering the best way to break Finn's arm.

"Oh, so it's Quinn this week, is it?" Blaine says sarcastically and Kurt almost drops his head in his hands out of mortification. "'Cause only I remember last night a certain someone complaining very loudly—"

"Blaine, knock it off!" Kurt finally stops him with an elbow to his side, seeing Rachel's eager look at any mention of tension between the golden couple.

"I don't have to listen to this," Mercedes growls and storms out of the room before Quinn actually tries to kill Santana. Kurt gets up to talk to her and try to fix their mess of a friendship, but Blaine holds him back and gives him a slight shake of his head. And _Sam_ goes after her. Kurt's eyes widen but Blaine's already turning back to the fight.

Santana starts screaming in Spanish and both Puck and Mike hold her back. Finn has Quinn in a bear hug but she doesn't stop trying to claw Santana's face off while Tina and Lauren watch. Lauren even has popcorn.

Mr. Schue just watches. Per usual.

* * *

><p>"So what are you wearing to prom?" Blaine asks and falls on Kurt's bed later. Xena jumps up after him and Blaine scratches her belly with a grin. "C'mon, Kurt. You love clothes; what crazy outfit do you have planned?"<p>

"I'm not going."

Blaine doesn't answer for a long moment and Kurt resolutely stares at the bottles of moisturizer on his vanity.

"You're not?" Blaine finally asks, his voice dripping with suspicion.

"Nope."

They're quiet for a while and Kurt starts to fidget under Blaine's narrowed gaze. It's not really any of Blaine's business; _he _can go do whatever he wants. Kurt's just not setting foot in that that gym with his nosy classmates.

"You wanna elaborate?" Blaine says through clenched teeth.

Kurt shakes his head and tries not to think about the half-finished kilt stashed deep inside his closet from early that year. A more innocent, hopeful Kurt had designed that outfit. Not this one. Kurt abruptly shakes himself out of his reminiscing when his phone buzzes on the dresser. Crossing the room, Kurt ignores Blaine's demanding stare and grabs his phone, desperate for an out from this conversation.

"I have to help Sam out with his tux," Kurt mutters after scanning the text. Not exactly the best distraction, but it will keep Blaine away. Speaking of— "You're going to be late to the Lima Bean." Kurt says with a pointed look. Blaine glances at his watch and swears under his breath, jumping to his feet and darting out the door. Kurt follows, grabbing his keys on the way.

At the bottom of the stairs, Blaine waits for Kurt. "Can you drop me off?" he asks sheepishly, as if Kurt was going to do anything else.

"Get in the car, Blaine," Kurt cracks a smile, but it feels forced.

The ride is quiet and tense, and Kurt just knows this conversation is not over, as Blaine helpfully points out before jumping out of the car with his guitar in the coffee shop's parking lot.

"I mean it, Hummel," Blaine frowns through the open window. "I'm coming over after and we're gonna talk about this."

"We're really not," Kurt replies. "Because there's nothing to discuss." He raises an eyebrow and Blaine growls, but he still pulls Kurt in for a quick kiss and then runs inside to make his 5 pm start time. Sighing, Kurt shifts the car into reverse and pulls out, heading towards Sam's motel.

Being with Sam is nearly as frustrating as being near Blaine, Kurt finds out after the third time Sam shifts and makes Kurt stab himself with a needle.

"Sam, I love you, but _hold still_," Kurt growls around the needles in his mouth and tugs the tuxedo pants Sam has on straight. Altering the twenty-dollar suit Sam picked up from Goodwill had to be the worst idea he's ever had. Behind him, Stacy leans over his shoulder to see what he's doing and Kurt has to be careful to not elbow her.

"Sorry," Sam says sheepishly, but he manages to not fidget long enough for Kurt to get the hem pinned.

"Drop them," Kurt sighs, leaning back and colliding with Stacy. "Sweetie, you've got to move if you don't want me to prick myself, alright?" Kurt says patiently while trying not to cry from the needle that poked his lip. Stacy pouts, but thankfully takes a giant step backwards towards her other brother, who is engrossed with his Pokèmon Gameboy game again. Sam hands him the pants and sits on the bed, completely at ease in his Star Trek boxers. It's a strange picture with the dress shirt and suit jacket and the bright blue socks. He watches Kurt attempt to sew the hem straight without a sewing machine.

It's a purposeful stare, and Kurt has a feeling there is going to be a _Conversation_ about Glee, so he mentally prepares himself.

"So, you're not going to prom, huh?" Sam says, far too casually to be coincidental. He grins nervously under Kurt's glare.

"Show me your phone," Kurt snarls and Sam instantly opens it to a text message from Blaine ordering Sam to find out what was going on with Kurt. "You two are far too invested with my life," Kurt rolls his eyes and goes back to stitching.

Seriously, though, he just doesn't want to go. Why does there have to be a larger reason?

"He's you're boyfriend; I'm his best friend; and you've seen my kid sister and brother in makeup," Sam says matter-of-factly, ignoring Stevie's insulted "Hey!" and shrugging. His face drops into seriousness. "But honestly, Kurt, we're just sort of worried about you. You're not doing as well as everyone thinks, right?"

Kurt doesn't answer, but stabs the pants a little harder than necessary and keeps his eyes down.

"Kurrrrrrrt…" Sam tries to get his attention. After failing, he sighs. "Stacy, poke Kurt until he answers me."

"He has needles, no way," she replies from her new perch next to her brother.

She's his favorite, Kurt decides.

"You know we'll protect you, right?" Sam says softly. "Me and Blaine and the rest of the Glee Club. We won't let anything happen."

Kurt's eyes start stinging. This is so unfair, they can't just _say _things like that; not when they don't mean it. He rubs his face and sniffs, redoubling his efforts to hem the damn pants and not look at Sam.

"No, really, Santana was talking about starting an anti-bullying program in school and getting Stephens to join her."

Kurt whips up his head at that. An anti-bullying program? Seriously? Then a cold thought hits him.

"She's doing this to get votes, isn't she?" Kurt rolls his eyes at Sam's guilty wince. "Figures, it's not like bullying is a real issue or anything; not like beating Quinn for Prom Queen is," Kurt mutters to himself.

"Okay, yeah, she's probably doing this for really selfish reasons," Sam admits. "But if the result is the same, does it really, like, matter?"

"So you'll take charity, right Sam?" Kurt raises an eyebrow, trying to hide the sudden anger surging through him. "Long as you have money for food and clothes; who cares if you get it from handouts, right?" He says it harshly and for a second, Kurt means it. Who is Sam to lecture _him?_ He's never known. He's never been bullied; he's a hot, blond football player with the perfect girlfriend for a while. He has _no right_. Sam recoils as if slapped and _shit_. Stacey stares at Kurt with wide, betrayed eyes and even Stevie looks up from his game in the resulting silence. Kurt groans and drops his head into his hands, tugging at his hair harshly. "That was uncalled for," he mutters.

"Yeah," Sam's voice sounds hollow and hurt.

"I'm sorry."

He feels even more like shit when Stacey runs and hides her face in Sam's chest.

"I'm just gonna—" Kurt swallows hard. "I'll finish this at home." He weakly holds up Sam's trousers and stands, hastily shoving his things in his bad.

"I think that's best," Sam says. He squeezes his sister and watches Kurt leave with a carefully blank face.

* * *

><p>Every time Kurt sees another Prom King and Queen poster, he wants to alternately throw up or tear the damn thing down. It doesn't help when, true to Sam's word, Santana pulls off the Bully Whips with Stephens. She even gets these stupid hats and matching jackets; like she thinks wearing bright red and attracting even more attention to him is going to help.<p>

When she announces that "Teen Gay" is cleared to move to second period, Kurt walks away as fast as possible. He also makes Blaine run interference for the rest of the day, resulting in a tongue lashing during Glee about ruining Santana's campaign.

Kurt can't make himself care all that much.

He finishes Sam's suit and helps his girls find perfect dresses and somehow through the daze notices the shy looks Mercedes and Sam keep exchanging. And then Jesse shows up again and Rachel falls in love with him _again _despite past betrayals and then Finn gets jealous _again_ and Mr. Schue makes it mandatory to sing at Prom and Kurt is just. Done.

He dodges Blaine as best he can, but then Rachel drags him to the mall in a last minute panic and Kurt cannot believe that this is his life.

"No." He states flatly when Rachel walks out of the dressing room with a bright pink, ruffle-y disaster on her body.

She sputters and looks down at her dress. "But why?" She practically whines. "I feel gorgeous! Like—like a princess!" She hugs the dress defensively.

"You look like the Stay-Puff Marshmallow Man and a neon tutu had a bastard child."

"Ok, now that's just rude," Rachel glares and put her hands on her hips, which just makes the dress puff up even more. It would be hilarious if it wasn't so sad-looking.

Kurt leans back in the uncomfortable dressing room chairs and squeezes his eyes shut. "You're the one that wanted a gay best friend, right?" Kurt grits out. "What's the point if you don't even listen to him for fashion advice?" He feels more than hears Rachel gather up the miles of fabric on her waist and attempt to sit down in the seat next to him.

"Stupid dress," Rachel mutters, making Kurt crack a smile and open an eye. She looks at him miserably. "You know that's not why you're my friend, right?" she says quietly, and Kurt shifts to face her head-on.

She huffs out a small laugh. "You're…a good person. You make me want to be better, you know? And you're my only real competition; when you try, I mean."

"Damn right," Kurt interrupts, earning a giggle and a mock glare.

"And even though you never stop insulting my clothes, you're my friend. Not because you're some fashion accessory gay that every girl needs when she gets to New York," Rachel beams. "But because you're Kurt Hummel." She says with finality. "And Kurt Hummel tells me the truth."

Kurt laughs and tries not to cry, but pulls Rachel in for a tight hug. "Thank you," he says into her shoulder, getting a mouthful of ruffles for his trouble.

Rachel laughs and pushes him away. "So, marshmallows and tutus, huh?" she says weakly, tugging a ruffle into place.

"Absolutely," Kurt agrees and shoves her back into the dressing room. "I'll allow you keep pink _if_ you let me keep it on the right side of blinding, alright?"

Pouting, Rachel goes quietly, but she stops Kurt with a hand around his wrist. "You know, you can come to the dance too," she says quietly, fixing him into place with determined eyes. "We all want you there. You're our friend."

Kurt shakes his head. "Yeah," he admits. "But there's too many that don't." Before Rachel can object, Kurt closes the dressing room door. "Change out of that abomination and let's find you a dress that will make Jesse regret the egg thing."

Rachel grumbles, but drops the subject. On the other side of the door, Kurt tries to ignore the small, hopeful voice in the back of his mind that whispers that Rachel might be right; maybe he could go to Prom and everything will be alright.

The voice is stupid, though, and Kurt steels himself against it. He's going to get Rachel to look like a human being and then he's done with this prom crap. He'll find a way around Mr. Schue because this is it. He's done.

* * *

><p>The day of prom, Kurt stares at his closet and wishes it could swallow him whole.<p>

"You wouldn't make me go, right girl?" he mutters to Xena, who whines and rolls on her back for a belly rub. Kurt obliges with a small smile.

A thumping announces Blaine's presence, as the boy finds it impossible to walk up the stairs at a normal pace.

"Hey," Blaine says breathlessly from the doorway, a garment bag thrown over his shoulder. "Thought you'd be ready by now." He drops the bag over the vanity chair and jumps on the bed, scratching Xena's ears on the way. He grins when she barks happily, tail wagging furiously.

Kurt pouts from his position on the floor. "Blaine, I seriously don't want to go," he admits. "I just…I can't." Thousands of eyes just staring and judging and hating him—he can't. Won't.

Blaine gives him an unreadable look for a long moment and then pats the spot next to him. Getting up with a groan, Kurt obeys and falls on the bed beside Blaine, quickly joined by the dog flopping over their legs.

"I want to tell you a story," Blaine says, but with a scarily serious tone that makes Kurt pay attention. As if on cue, Blaine's hand migrates up and starts tugging on his many earrings as always, but Kurt sees it shaking this time.

"Okay," Kurt breathes, locking eyes with Blaine.

Swallowing hard, Blaine starts with a sad smile. "It was before Dalton. At my middle school. I was…thirteen, I think?" Blaine lets out a long, nervous breath. "I've never talked about this, okay, just…hold on."

Kurt grabs his hand and squeezes. "Take your time," Kurt tries to keep his creeping fear out of his voice, but Blaine shakes his head like he knows. Like he always does. Xena falls quiet, but she shifts to curl up next to Blaine and Blaine leans into her body and almost relaxes.

"I wasn't out, not yet; but there was this guy. Ben. He was a year ahead of me and the Sadie Hawkins Dance was coming up. He asked me…and I said yes." Blaine snorts, bitter. "I was so fucking stupid. I thought it'd be ok because whatever, right? No one had to know we were going _together_ together; we could've just been friends, right?" Blaine looks down at their clasped hands and shrugs. "Who knew seventh graders could be such little shits though, right?

"It was after the dance when they jumped us. We barely did anything; just one stupid slow dance; we didn't bother anyone. But while we were waiting for Ben's dad, they kind of, um…" Blaine trailed off and shook his head. "They beat the living crap out of us." Blaine says flatly.

Kurt waits, but Blaine doesn't elaborate. "Blaine, I'm—"

"It was a long time ago, Kurt," Blaine interrupts, smiling even though his shoulders stay tensed and his hand squeezes Kurt's.

Again, they fall into silence.

"Was that supposed to be a pep talk?" Kurt finally says with a slightly hysterical giggle. Christ; Blaine's life just goes from bad to worse, and Kurt can't do anything about it but make stupid jokes to try to get that hollow look off of his boyfriend's face and it just _hurts_.

Blaine rolls his eyes. "No, dumbass," he snorts, shoving Kurt's shoulder gently. "My _point_," he starts, grinning again, "is that I've never been to a dance since. And this is an important time for you, my budding designer; you don't have to waste it. We should do this. For us. Together." As if to prove his point, Blaine squeezes Kurt's hand again and pulls Kurt to his feet. "You're braver than you think," Blaine whispers.

Kurt glances back at his closet.

Courage, right?

"Okay."


	31. Chapter 31

**A/N - ****_Oh my god, I'm done. My first finished story ever! Thanks for sticking along for the ride, you guys are the best. Every favorite, story alert, and kind review made me smile. Thank you for dealing with me through cheesy dialogue and grammar mistakes and spelling errors. Every person who took the time to read this is special and I can't thank you enough._**

**_Please enjoy my final chapter!_**

* * *

><p>It's official.<p>

Kurt _hates_ McKinley.

"After—_everything—"_ Kurt spits out, filling the empty hallway with loud thunks from his boots, "_Everything_ those _assholes_ put me through; they couldn't let me have one night?!" He spins and glares at Blaine, who leans against the lockers with his arms crossed. "One stupid night, and they still manage to make me the butt of an enormous, school-wide practical joke!" Really though, _Prom Queen?_ What the hell does that even accomplish anyway? It's a stupid title for a stupid campaign meant to make girls feel bad about themselves and stab each other in the back and Kurt isn't supposed to be involved. "They couldn't even do it to my face!" Kurt balls his hands into fists, feeling the sharp pricks of his nails digging into his skin. The pain grounds him. "They did it behind my back. By secret _ballot_."

"They're dicks," Blaine says simply, though Kurt doesn't miss the way Blaine's hands clench into tight fists. If Kurt tells him to, Blaine will go back in the gym and beat the shit out of the ringleaders of the whole stupid joke. The tight vice in his chest loosens slightly at the look of pure fury on Blaine's face.

"I've never been so embarrassed in my whole life." Kurt admits, stopping his pacing and facing Blaine. He wraps his arms around his stomach, probably creasing the simple black tuxedo he'd dug out from his closet. "Least I didn't wear the stupid kilt," Kurt says bitterly, swallowing against the lump in his throat. He'd left it half-finished buried in the bottom of his closet. It's stupid, but Kurt's almost relieved that he's in a boring tuxedo instead of his real outfit. Another part of his hates that he's still letting other dictate who he is.

Blaine seems to consider Kurt for a long moment, but for once, doesn't move to comfort him. Kurt's grateful, a hug and pity-filled expression right now would send him over the edge. He really just needed to vent and _breathe_. Blaine understands.

"I would have liked the stupid kilt," Blaine says, smirking when Kurt glances up. "So, they secretly, like a bunch of cowardly rats, voted you Prom Queen. What's Kurt Hummel going to do about that?" He inclines his head towards the gym doors. "We can leave if you want, you know, I'm not gonna judge you. We can go home and watch stupid movies. And when I say watch movies, I don't actually mean watch movies." He winks with a lewd grin.

"I am not giving in to teenage clichés, Blaine," Kurt says, but it's more of an automatic response than a real objection. "No sex on prom night." His mouth twitches. It's hard to be mad at Blaine when he tries to make Kurt smile by saying stupid shit.

"I'm just saying!" Blaine insists, but he doesn't push. Kurt knows Blaine was just trying to help in his own clumsy way, and Kurt probably shouldn't find that as endearing as he does. Blaine's phone vibrates in his hand and he glances down at the screen. "Plus, Sam's been blowing up my phone with plans to jump Azimio and his band of dicks after prom's over. He's the jackass that planned this." Blaine's fingers twitch like he's imagining them around Azimio's neck. "I can kick his ass and be home in time for ice cream." Blaine inclines his head towards the parking lot.

"No," Kurt says before he realizes it. Taking in a deep breath, a sudden calmness settles over Kurt, and he knows his decision. "This is your prom, too. We're—" Kurt juts his chin up proudly and he thinks he sees something flicker in Blaine's serene expression. "We're doing this for _us_." Kurt says firmly. "And I am not letting a bunch of cowardly _bastards_ ruin this for me. They named me queen, so I'm going in there and I'm taking my crown. Because they can't touch me." By now, Blaine's moved in front of Kurt and Kurt grabs both Blaine's hands with determination. "They can't touch _us_." After a second, Blaine grins, wide and proud and something warm blossomed in Kurt's chest because _he_ put that expression on Blaine.

"Damn right." Blaine agreed, squeezing Kurt's hands.

"Okay," Kurt breathes, but he doesn't move right away. Turns out that doing is a lot harder than talking and he only gets his legs to take a step after a long moment of silent coaching.

_One foot in front of the other_, Kurt repeats in his head like a mantra. He makes his way back down the empty hallway, back to _them_, and every time he thinks he might bolt, Blaine is there behind him to prod him forward.

Blaine ran, Kurt remembers. Years ago, Blaine ran from his troubles and while he _should_ have, now is a second chance. For both of them. Kurt's hand lifts and brushes over the light pink carnation on his lapel Blaine had bought them as boutonnieres. It still stuns him, because Blaine of all people willingly walked into a flower shop and picked those flowers for him and his boyfriend. Because he loves Kurt. Kurt could totally get his stupid crown in return.

The gym doors seem huge and impassable when Kurt reaches them until Blaine leans forward and pushes them open. Every person in the gym turns to _stare_ and Kurt almost runs but Blaine whispers _courage_ and Kurt keeps his chin high because he will not break. Not today. Not for a bunch of petty high schoolers; not after everything he's been through.

He takes one impossible step forward, then another.

Because this is _his_ night, not theirs.

The crown is flimsy and flamboyant and the scepter Principal Figgins hands him feels like just one more twist of the knife, but Kurt takes both as regally as he could. The principal smiles weakly at Kurt and Kurt gives him an icy glare in return. If only he hadn't read the name out loud, Kurt wouldn't have to be up onstage in front of his classmates wearing a sparkling crown and scepter. If only he wasn't an actually clueless.

Kurt steps up the lone microphone and looks at the crowd. The Glee club smiles encouragingly, though Santana and Blaine still look slightly murderous. Blaine is expected, but it's still gratifying that Santana is at least willing to make sure everyone knew she doesn't approve of McKinley's silent bullying (though Kurt's not positive if it's because Santana's insulted on Kurt's behalf or pissed that Kurt's wearing her crown). Aside from his friends, most of the school is a mix of embarrassed and sympathetic. Azimio and his cronies snicker in the back, and it's to them that Kurt directs his next words.

He breathes, and lifts his chin with a confidence only he knows is false. "Eat your heart out, Kate Middleton," Kurt says, and smiles because he is fabulous, even if McKinley hasn't recognized that yet. Rachel smiles broadly and claps hard, and the rest of the crowd joins in with less enthusiasm. Blaine winks at him and Kurt feels some of his nerves loosening.

Principal Figgins tries to get Stephens to dance with Kurt after that for the King and Queen's song. While Kurt knew it wasn't going to go well, he is still of the opinion that Stephens doesn't have to laugh quite _that _loudly. Or leave Kurt on the dance floor like an abandoned puppy until Blaine steps up and takes Kurt's hand. Blaine glares at the surrounding couples until they are replaced by the Glee Club and Kurt starts to relax and actually have _fun_ dancing with his boyfriend in the middle of Homophobic High.

And if he turns a blind eye to Blaine and Sam plotting the rest of the night while the girls try to distract him with compliments on his crown, well. Kurt's never claimed to be a good person. He lets them all try the flimsy crown on anyway, though; he sees those looks of jealousy from Santana and Quinn.

The rest of Prom passes with a blur, but some moments stand out. Like when Santana dumps Stephens in the middle of the final dance, screaming at him in Spanish and slapping his face before storming out with Brittany. Kurt half-wishes Finn could have seen that if he hadn't been kicked out for fighting with Jesse, and Sam and Blaine disappear for two whole songs before reappearing with twin smirks and secret glances. Kurt's not even going to touch that, though he gets a strong idea after the prom ends and Azimio explodes at the sight of his new BMW with flat tires and SNEAK keyed into the hood. Blaine shrugs innocently when Kurt glares at him.

He does kiss Blaine later for that. Kurt's never said he was a good person, after all.

* * *

><p>"It seems almost…anticlimactic, you know?" Kurt tells Dr. Englund a few weeks later. School's almost over and that's been a nightmare in itself, what with the whole Finn-Quinn-Jesse-Rachel thing rearing its ugly head and Mr. Schue deciding to try to be a real teacher for once and Sam getting ready to move to Kentucky in two months since his dad got a real job offer after months of searching. Kurt's going to miss that family. Stacey cries when she tells Kurt and Kurt barely holds himself together when she hugs him and hides her head in the crook of Kurt's neck. Blaine helps him.<p>

Plus, New York and Nationals happened. And it was _amazing_, even if Finn and Rachel fucked it up with their dramatic onstage kiss.

But he got to see the city of his dreams with his boyfriend, and got to share a room with Blaine (and Puck and Sam, but who's counting them), _and_ Blaine didn't even threaten anyone once.

Plus, no nightmares.

At all.

_None_.

In fact, for three blessed days, Karofsky doesn't cross Kurt's brain once and the second Kurt realizes that he started laughing so hard he almost cries. Blaine had been alarmed but certainly doesn't complain at the kiss Kurt springs on him in the middle of the flight home. The little kid next to them rolls his eyes, but whatever.

"What's anticlimactic?" Dr. Englund asks smoothly. Her legs are crossed and she leans back in her chair, waiting patiently as Kurt tries to figure out what to say. She's already cut their visits done to once a week and she always has this expression on her face, like she's proud of Kurt. He's only seen her truly angry since Karofsky's doctor called that one embarrassing night, and that was when Blaine told her about the Prom Queen thing. Then, she'd looked ready to personally tear Principal Figgins a new one, but Kurt talked her down from it and she did calm down, albeit reluctantly. It still meant a lot that she'd wanted to, though, and Kurt hadn't forgotten.

Shrugging, Kurt glances at the green wallpaper. It's still as calming as it was the first time Kurt came to her office. "It's just…everything's almost done," Kurt shrugs. "I have two more weeks of school. I haven't had a nightmare or flashbacks in almost a month. And Blaine and I…_you know_." Kurt blushes hard, remembering that amazing night that Mary Anderson had a date and Burt had let Kurt sleep over the Anderson's house. He'd told Dr. Englund because she deserved to know if her advice even worked (it did) and he had to tell someone about it.

After Karofsky, he wasn't sure he'd ever go through with sex and while they hadn't exactly done anything that required condoms, Kurt doesn't feel too virginal anymore. Plus it was with _Blaine_. And that was all that matters.

Dr. Englund chuckles and uncrosses her legs, leaning forward to catch Kurt's eyes. "I'm so proud of you, Kurt. You've really come a long way in a very short time."

"Blaine says that," Kurt says, still flushed. "He says that a lot. It's not true, I'm not brave, I just pretend to be…"

"Kurt, bravery is continuing on even when you're scared. You've got courage in spades, kiddo, and I'm sure Blaine sees that," Dr. Englund winks.

"Blaine says that too."

"Then Blaine's a wise kid. Though he could stand to lose some of the leather."

Kurt laughs at that. "I've tried, believe me, but he's still under the impression that it intimidates people. Even if he's secretly a cuddle whore."

Dr. Englund nods in agreement. "So, why do you feel…uncomfortable? Why are you so nervous?" Her voice is not demanding and her expression stays neutral and safe.

Kurt shrinks back into the couch and shrugs again. "I guess I'm just waiting for the other shoe to drop," he says quietly. "Things have been good lately—really good—and I just don't…"

"Trust it?"

Sighing, Kurt nods. "Yeah," he says sadly. "It's going to go bad, and I don't want it to. I like where I am." Dr. Englund doesn't respond, only watches him as Kurt starts to fidget under her gaze. "What?" he finally asks.

"You're allowed to be happy, Kurt." She says firmly.

Kurt draws his knees to his chest and hugs them. "It's hard to believe that sometimes." he says.

* * *

><p>The last day of school goes by calmly. Blaine manages to pass all of his classes with prodding from Kurt and the students of McKinley seem to give up on their quest to ruin Kurt's life after Prom. He's basically a nobody now, and it's relaxing. Freeing.<p>

Rachel typically spends the day tearfully hugging everyone in Glee and promising pool parties at her house and double dates and Kurt agrees with her. He's surprised to find out that he means it when he tells her that they'll hang out. Last summer had been just like every summer before, working in the garage with his dad to hide the fact that he didn't have friends.

Now, though, he has the Glee Club. And, of course, _Blaine._

Blaine slides his arm around Kurt's waist and tugs him to his side. "School's out for summer," he says, grinning. He's even happier than Kurt, it'll be his first real summer in a few years. they last few were spent in either summer school or juvie, and Kurt secretly suspects that Blaine's ready to give up being whatever he is and be himself. A kid with a boyfriend and real friends that don't sell him out to the cops.

"School's out forever," Kurt says, just to watch Blaine laugh at Kurt quoting Alice Cooper. Finn likes his classic rock, some of it was bound to rub off on Kurt.

"God, I love you," Blaine snorts, planting a kiss on Kurt's mouth and licking deeper when Kurt parts his lips.

"Love you too," Kurt says breathlessly when they break apart. "When do you have to go to your dad's?" He hates the dark expression that clouds Blaine's face at the mention of his father. The fact that Blaine's dad didn't have to spend a night in jail for abusing Blaine still pisses Kurt off.

Blaine leans against Kurt's car and scowls at the ground. "July. 1st to the 7th. At least I can keep an eye on Erica. Can't believe I forgot about Memorial Day, _fuck_…"

That had been a fun weekend, when Blaine realized he'd have to see his father a hell of a lot sooner than he'd thought. Thanksgiving was going to be spent in Ohio now, but Independence Day? That was California. At least this time Kurt knows he'll be able to handle Blaine's absence better. Xena will probably go through withdrawal though.

"Is she still dating your dad?" Kurt asks gently. Blaine was still worried about her, even though she hasn't hinted at any abuse. It doesn't stop Blaine from texting her every so often.

Blaine frowns. "Yeah," he says darkly. "Wish I could stop her. She deserves better."

"At least she has you. I have it on good authority that you're a fantastic white knight." Kurt smiles at Blaine's involuntary smirk. "Come on. We have the house to ourselves for a few hours." He winks and Blaine finds one of his hands and squeezes.

"I'm really proud of you," he says softly. "We got through this school year and there were times I didn't think we would. Either of us."

"Yeah," Kurt agrees in a whisper. A whoop echoes across the emptying parking lot and Kurt jumps, wiping his watering eyes with a small smile. "We made it, Blaine."

"We're _going_ to make it." Blaine says stubbornly, pushing off from the car and wrapping his arms around Kurt. "_We're going to be okay."_

Summer stretches before them, endless days with no responsibilities except for the garage and a few appointments with the therapist, and then it will be senior year and they'll apply to colleges and graduate. And Blaine's begun to talk about music school like Julliard or NYADA or NYU because he knows Kurt wants to go to New York and he'll follow Kurt anyway. And even if they don't go to the same college or the same school, Blaine's so deeply ingrained in him that Kurt can't imagine a life without him. And even after college, they have the rest of their lives because Kurt's not letting him go again.

He's pretty sure Blaine won't him go, either, with the way Blaine clings to him in their high school parking lot.

Kurt pulls back enough to kiss Blaine, _really_ kiss him, like he's never done in public and he smiles and the sight of Blaine's face so open and blissful makes him want to cry with happiness.

He believes Blaine.

They're going to make it.

Together.


End file.
